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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523060">I’d Watch a Hundred Movies Just to See Your Smile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsthatwhisper/pseuds/windsthatwhisper'>windsthatwhisper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Bonding, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Sex, Football, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Scent Marking, Soul Bond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:47:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsthatwhisper/pseuds/windsthatwhisper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny was sure he was a beta his whole life, up until the day he found Patrick Kane stranded on the side of the road with his broken-down car. Things kind of snowballed from there.</p><p> — the a/b/o high school au no one asked for</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>435</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So basically — I have no reason for this except that I crave teenage romance. </p><p>This fic contains a case of mistaken identity, and it causes brief anxiety and self-consciousness. Chapters will be tagged with warnings. </p><p>Enjoy :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The problem with grease is that it gets everywhere. Once it’s on your fingers, it might as well be on the rest of your body, because it will spread across your skin and clothes in the ten minutes it takes you to wipe it off and wash your hands. </span>
</p>
<p>That’s what Jonny says, anyway. Working on cars since he was in junior high and being the victim of one too many ruined shirts, he thinks he’s got some leverage to make the claim. </p>
<p>
  <span>“There you go,” he says to Mrs. Zebettini as he shuts the hood of her car, “Should be good as new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Jonathan,” she smiles at him, patting his arm. She’s an older omega woman, a widow whose kids don’t visit much anymore. She brings him thumbprint cookies on the weekends, sometimes, with grape jelly inside because he doesn’t like marmalade, “How much do I owe you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Jonny tells her, handing back the keys, “Call it my good deed for the day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She levels him with a look that makes Jonny cover his ears with his shoulders and smile bashfully. “I guess I wouldn’t mind some more cookies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her stern visage shifts into a pleased one, and she pats him on the shoulder with a nod of confirmation. “I’ll have them ready when you get home from school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>School. Damn. Jonny checks his watch and realizes it’s already 7:20. “I should go,” he yells as he runs into his garage to get to his car, “Call my dad if you run into any more problems!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Zebettini waves at him as he passes, so he honks a goodbye and presses the gas a little more. He’s only got fifteen minutes to make it on time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo, Tazer!” Someone shouts from beside him when he slows to a stop at the first red light. When he turns, he finds Sharpy trying to peer past Abby to look at him through the passenger’s side window. “Late start to the day, huh? What’cha been doin’ for the past twenty minutes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better things than you, Sharp,” Jonny says, flicks down his sunglasses, and drives off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sharpy’s a troll, but he’s Jonny’s closest friend. He was the first Canadian he met when he moved to Chicago from Winnipeg way back in junior high, and they both kind of latched onto each other like leeches because they were the only Canadians at the school at the time. Over the years, Seabs and Crow and a couple others made their presence known, and soon they formed themselves into a ragtag group of Canadians that took over the American football team their sophomore year.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sharpy, though, as annoying as he is, has always been Jonny’s number two. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as Sharpy takes the shortcut to the school, but Jonny opts for the long way. He's right on time, but he likes the feel of driving, the wind in his face and the gardens in the front yards of peoples’ homes as he goes by. His mother says it’s because he’s a beta, that it’s his body’s way of taking in new senses. Jonny’s heard that betas can't smell anything, but he’s always found that weird. He can’t smell pheromones, but he can smell scents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why Jonny smells him before he sees him, the crisp scent of ice and strawberries wafting through the breeze that runs under Jonny’s nose. It’s someone’s scent, and it’s the fact that there’s a fruity tang to it tells Jonny it belongs to an omega.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Down the road, he can see someone off to the side with their car hood up. The person is poking their head out from the side of the hood every few seconds, either checking to make sure he doesn’t get run over or to see if someone can help. Probably both. As Jonny gets closer, he realizes the smell is coming from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny checks the time. He’s got roughly eight minutes to make it to class on time. He’ll get there no problem if he passes this guy, and he’ll more than likely be late if he stops to try to help. But, Jonny can’t pass up a chance to play around with a car, let alone one that looks so old. Also, the person — he thinks it’s a guy — seems familiar, and Jonny’s a good person. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls over to the side of the road right behind the broken-down car and gets out, tossing his keys into the glovebox as he approaches the person — definitely a guy — who is cursing up a storm behind the hood of his car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hoo,” Jonny says, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy startles so hard he falls back on his ass. When Jonny rounds the corner, the guy’s sitting in the ground looking a little dazed, a smudge of grease on his forehead right below the end of a strand of blond curls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having some trouble?” He asks, and when the guy looks at him, he clarifies, “With your car, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He offers a hand to the guy, who takes it gratefully and allows himself to be pulled onto his feet. “Uh, yeah. It just — I dunno. It was doing fine and then it just started, sputtering, I guess. Kept slowing down. I pulled over just in time for it to shut down completely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind if I take a look?” He asks, “My dad owns the mechanic shop just down the road. I know my way around cars.” The guy nods and steps aside, and Jonny takes his place beneath the propped hood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car is old and it’s a mess in there, but the longer Jonny looks, the less he can find that could be the cause of the breakdown. It’s looking like more of a transmission problem than anything, but Jonny’s not the best when it comes to transmission problems because the part is so complex. The good thing, though, is that transmissions are his dad’s area of expertise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, no matter the cause, this old girl is definitely not coming alive right now,” Jonny tells the guy regretfully, “She’s gonna have to be towed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy groans, dropping his head in his hands. “Perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny stares at the guy as he rubs his face, getting grease smears all over it. He looks cute like that, especially with the rumpled look on his face. There’s a faint smell of distress coming from him, mingling with the strawberries. Jonny kind of wants to hug him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes the thought aside and starts dialing his dad’s number. “You look familiar. Do you go to Pinebridge, by any chance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The high school? Yeah,” the guy nods, then squints at Jonny, “You kinda look familiar, too. I think you might be in my math class.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny feels his eyes widen a little. “You’re the kid that Mrs. Mattentov always calls on. You’re like, a super genius or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he slaps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. The guy’s cheeks are a bright pink, and he scratches the back of his neck bashfully, “Not really. I’m just good with numbers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay with stats,” Jonny says, “but man, fuck circles.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy laughs, throwing his head back a little to reveal a pale column of skin that layers thin over the thick expanse of his throat, “Fair enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny’s lips quiver into a smile. “I’m Jonny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patrick,” the guy says and shakes his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s warm and doesn’t quite fit against Jonny’s hand, but it feels like it belongs. “You need a ride, Patrick?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick takes back his hand, but Jonny doesn’t have time to mourn the loss because Patrick is agreeing to his offer and saying, “Thanks so much,” with a shy little blush reddening at his ears. Jonny swallows his words, too afraid to say something dumb. His dad finally answers the phone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Jonny’s sent his dad the location of Patrick’s car, he drives them both to the high school where they’re incredibly tardy. Patrick doesn’t seem too concerned, though — even though he told Jonny on the ride over that he’s only been tardy three times in his entire school career — just slips one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and grabs his Greek Myth textbook from Jonny’s floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the ride,” Patrick smiles at him as they walk to the front doors of the school, “I owe you one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny nods, a pleased feeling forming behind his ribs. He’s proud that he helped Patrick, got him to school in his own car and got his dad to work on his car. He cuffs Patrick on the back, light, and says, “It’s no problem. If you want, I can give you a ride home after school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick reaches for the door, and no, that won’t do, so Jonny grabs it first and holds it open for Patrick to walk through. Patrick blinks at him, surprised, and then his face melts into something gentle. “Thank you,” he mumbles for the third time that morning, then, “I’d love a ride home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Jonny nods. He realizes, as they get their late passes from the office and enter the main hallway, that they’re headed in opposite directions. Jonny frowns. He doesn’t want to leave yet. He kind of wants to walk Patrick to his class, but then he’d be even later than he already is and risks detention. If he’s in detention, he can’t give Patrick a ride home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he says, “Meet me at the front of the student parking lot after school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick nods, promises to be there, and hurries off to class. Jonny watches him disappear down the hallway, and doesn’t head off to his own class until a passing teacher shoos him away.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here’s another little chapter to get things rolling :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Presenting happens on your thirteenth birthday, and it’s the first part of puberty. Alphas pop knots and omegas get their pre-heat bleeds. Sometime within a month after presenting, alphas go into rut and omegas go into heat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scents are the first thing to come in. Every omega has a base scent that sings on the edge of fruity and sweet, like candy or sugar. (Or strawberries.) The base scent of an alpha is more musky, wood or whiskey or earth. Betas don’t have a scent at all except for their natural skin smell, whatever body wash they put on in the shower or the lotion they use. Gammas and nulls are the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny woke up on his thirteenth birthday, but despite the fact that he could smell the store-brand shampoo his mother uses from all the way at the other end of the house, there wasn’t much that was different. He waited all day to see if he’d go into heat, or maybe a rut, but it never came. Neither did a bleed or a knot. He was a little feverish that day, but when Jonny went to the doctor to check it out, she confirmed it was the flu and sent him home with some medication.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grandmother is an alpha, but both of his parents are betas, so it makes sense that he is, too. It makes it easier in the locker room, not having to worry about an overload of scents and smells, just focus on the Junior Jets and the feel of his sweat sliding down his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day his family moved to Chicago, his new neighbors came to help, including their seventeen year old daughter, Millie. Jonny got a whiff of her when she helped him carry boxes up to his room. She smelled like apples and a hint of sunshine, and she talked to him about all the cool things to do in Chicago while they set up his room.</span>
</p>
<p>Jonny was fourteen at the time, and it was the first time he’d ever considered that boys could like boys, because Millie got a call from a girl named Claire that made her scent spike into happiness and the smell of apples to rise exponentially. </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s your girlfriend?” Jonny repeated in awe when Millie told him, “You can do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you can,” Millie had said, “You can’t help who you’re attracted to, whether it’s because of someone’s dynamics or because you think they have a nice smile.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does Claire have a nice smile?” He’d asked her, and Millie got a wistful look in her eye and said, “The best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Patrick has a nice smile,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jonny thinks as he gazes across the room as Patrick stops to talk to a classmate in their fifth period math class. Sharpy’s too busy texting his girlfriend to notice his inane staring, which is good, because Jonny catches himself drooling. He wipes at his mouth frantically as Patrick looks up from his friend and catches Jonny’s eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick waves at him, all bright eyes and dumb hair, says something to his friend, and walks over to Jonny’s desk. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” says Jonny, trying to play it cool. Patrick’s presence gets Sharpy to finally look up from his phone, but before he can quip something and embarrass Jonny in front of Patrick, Mrs. Mattentov walks into the classroom and distracts them enough that Jonny can get a swift kick at Sharpy’s shin and give him the evil eye before Patrick turns back around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick takes his seat, which is two desks in front of Jonny’s. In his peripherals, he can see Sharpy giving him the biggest troll grin he can muster. Jonny slouches in his seat and settles in for the long run as Mrs. Mattentov starts talking about the areas of sectors. Fucking circles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny tries to catch Patrick when the bell rings, eyes on the mop of curly blond hair going down the hall. But Sharpy calls his name, and Jonny instinctively turns around to face him. He catches himself too late, because when he whips back around, Patrick is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Sharpy,” Jonny huffs, put out. Jonny’s got lunch next, but he’s not sure where Patrick is headed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yikes, Toe-es, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Sharpy snorts, slinging an arm around Jonny’s shoulders as they make their way to the cafeteria. “Care to tell me why Patrick Kane talked to you before class?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny feels his muscles tense. “Why? You got a problem with him?” He snaps, then shrinks down, embarrassed. He’s never snapped at Sharpy like that before, especially about a boy. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Sharpy doesn’t look hurt. In fact, he looks absolutely gleeful about Jonny’s little outburst. Jonny’s not sure which is worse. Sharpy drags him closer and gives him a noogie. “Finally popped your knot, Toe-es?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a recurring joke that Sharpy and the rest of the team has made since Jonny first joined the team. Jonny’s never bothered to say anything about it. Most of the team, including Sharpy, are alphas. They can probably smell that Jonny is a beta, but like to pretend he’s an alpha because of his personality — possessive and serious, but that’s the way Jonny’s always been. It’s got nothing to do with his beta dynamic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about my knot often?” Jonny chirps, throwing Sharpy’s arms off of him as they walk into the cafeteria. It’s Cheese Stick Tuesday. Jonny can already feel his mouth watering from it. Or maybe it’s from the smell of strawberries and snow. Jonny looks around, alert, and sees Patrick walking by the doors with a friend, passing the cafeteria completely to head to the science hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Sharpy snorts, piling his tray with cheese sticks, “You’re whipped. How long have you two been talking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny grabs his plate of cheese sticks and a cup of marinara sauce, pointedly keeping quiet. His silence is enough of an answer for Sharpy to understand: not long at all. He laughs loudly and thunks Jonny on the back of his head like an asshole when they sit down at their table. “This is gold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make you run laps.” Jonny threatens, munching on his cheese stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the day passes slowly. He’s distracted, too busy thinking about being able to see Patrick again, having him in his car and being able to take him home. Jonny drives like a crazy person, but at least his car is new. Patrick will be safe riding with Jonny rather than driving his old hunk of junk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Watching the water to see if it boils will make it take longer, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mother always said, but Jonny can’t help but look up at the clock every five seconds to see how much time has passed. His partner in English has to keep reminding him to work on their presentation because he keeps staring at that dumb clock that </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t move.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But finally, finally, the bell rings to signal the end of school, and Jonny throws all of his shit into his backpack and hightails it out of there. He hopes Patrick won’t take too long. He’s got to be back at the school by three thirty for practice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luckily, Jonny’s just made it to the doors that lead to the student parking through the cafeteria when Patrick walks in. He parts ways with his friend — Artemi, if Jonny remembers correctly — and approaches Jonny with a grin. “Hey. Thanks so much for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a problem,” Jonny promises, and they walk out of the school together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pass by a cluster of rowdy teenagers that are piling into the back of some guy’s truck. People are running to their cars, eager to get home or go to the Cook-Out just off the highway. Jonny and his friends go there during the second semester, when football is over and they don’t have to go to practice. Jonny wonders if Patrick has ever been to Cook-Out, or if he’s ever been after school with a bunch of friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a tingle in the back of Jonny’s skull. He moves on autopilot and grabs Patrick by the arms, yanks him backwards, just as a car goes speeding down the road, right where Patrick would have been standing. Jonny blinks. That’s new. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick spins around and stares at Jonny with wide eyes. “Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Jonny asks, hands twitching at his side. He wants to put his hands on Patrick’s face, his chest, make sure nothing’s hurt; but he refrains from doing so and looking like a creep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You saved my life, man,” Patrick breathes, shaking out his limbs, “Yeah, yeah I’m good. But shit — now I owe you double.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny laughs with a sigh of relief. Patrick’s fine. He’s safe with Jonny. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” The clamber into Jonny’s silver Toyota. Patrick places his bag and his duffel neatly in the space where his feet are, whereas Jonny tosses his things carelessly behind him in the backseat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick snorts, “You're such a slob.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny grins and pulls out of the parking space. “So, where am I headed?” He asks, just as Patrick’s phone rings.</span>
</p>
<p>The contact is only of the emoji of a woman with a boy. No name, no special ringtone, just the emoji. Patrick answers with a, “Hey, Ma.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh. A New Yorker. That explains the accent.</span>
</p>
<p>“Yeah I’m on my way. Jonny’s driving me — the guy who helped me get to school? Yeah.” Jonny preens a little but tries to tamp it down. Patrick pauses for a moment, “Why not,” then, “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it. I can ask—”</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick shuffles a little in his seat to face Jonny, “Hey,” and oh, that’s directed at him, “Uh, my mom’s got to work late tonight. Both of my parents have the cars, and since mine is in the shop, do you think you can drive me to the YMCA? It’s okay if you can’t; I know you’ve got practice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny’s a little caught on the fact that Patrick knows he’s on the football team before the rest of his sentence computes. “Yeah, no problem.” He assures, “Didn't know you did stuff there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick smiles, says into the phone, “He’ll take me,” then, “Yeah, I will. Love you, too,” and hangs up. “God, I’m gonna have so many favors to repay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny reaches out to shove at his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.” When Patrick settles back into his seat and Jonny takes the left instead of the right, he asks, “So, what do you do at the Y?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick gets a little gleam in his eye. “I volunteer there and give swimming lessons to kids,” he answers, “Sometimes I skate, if there’s time afterwards. Ice skate. They have a rink in the back that’s open for use. Sometimes me and whoever else is there usually fool around, shoot the shit, you know? Play some hockey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love hockey,” Jonny admits, “Why haven’t you joined the school’s team?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Patrick gives him an unimpressed look, it comprehends, “Oh, right.” Patrick is an omega, and omegas aren’t allowed on contact sports teams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny kind of understands; an alpha barreling at an omega at full force is rough, since omegas are usually smaller than alphas. It can get dangerous at some points, and schools claim it's for the safety of the omegas, but Jonny knows the main reason is political. Most schools think that omegas shouldn’t play sports, that they should leave the roughhousing to the alphas and stick to learning and obeying alphas. It’s an old way of thinking, but the superintendents and principals are older, grew up in the sixties and seventies when omegas only went to school up until junior high, then stopped going to stay home and learn how to cook, clean, and make babies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick, though he is small, has a fighting spirit and looks like he could hold himself in court. Omegas are allowed in pro-sports, and while there are regulations — they must be on suppressants, can only have heats during the off-seasons, and aren’t allowed to get pregnant unless there’s an extended amount of time that the season won’t start, like lockouts — if they can prove that they can handle being on a team and in a sport that is predominantly alpha-based, they’re allowed in. Certain colleges allow omegas on their teams, mainly the ones that the scouts come to, and those colleges are mainly inhabited with omegas. Primary and secondary schooling is a completely different story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It sucks about the school,” Jonny says, “but it’s cool that you’ve found a way to play anyway, even if it’s not on a team.” Patrick smiles at him, pleased with the answer, so Jonny adds, “We should play, one day, you and me. It could be fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Patrick asks, and the smell of strawberries intensifies, “That sounds cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Jonny echoes, and pulls into the parking lot of the YMCA. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick’s gathering his things when it hits him, “How are you going to get back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My ma will be off work by the time I get done here,” Patrick tells him, “She’s gonna pick me up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” says Jonny, “Okay,” then, before he can stop himself, “Can I have your number?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick’s got the passenger’s side door halfway opened, backpack hanging off of one shoulder and duffel sliding down his outstretched arm, hand clutching the inside door handle. “Well? Get your phone out.” Jonny scrambles to comply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick rattles off his number, and Jonny sends a quick text so that Patrick has his. When he hears the little </span>
  <em>
    <span>ping </span>
  </em>
  <span>in Patrick’s butt pocket, he knows they’re all set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a moment, before Patrick shakes himself out of it and gets out of the car. “Bye, Jonny.” He says, and walks into the building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye, Patrick,” Jonny says, watching him go. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Friday brings an excitement around the school as the team gears up for their weekly football game. They’re playing their rival school, the South City Whalers, and it always sparks a kind of electricity in the school — especially when the players show up to school in their jerseys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Jonny’s not going to lie: he’s kind of hoping that Patrick will get a little hot when he sees Jonny in his jersey.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a week since he started driving Patrick to school in the mornings and to the YMCA after. His car officially smells like strawberries and ice, and no amount of idiot teammates that stink of sweat and dirt and alpha pheromones that pile themselves into his car every morning has been able to get rid of the smell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick’s fiddling with the aux cord and the Spotify app on his phone, chirping Jonny on his shitty taste in music, when Jonny asks, “Are you coming to the game tonight?” He hopes he doesn’t sound too eager.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick hums, frantically skipping through all the One Direction songs as if Jonny doesn’t already know that he’s a huge 1D stan. When he settles on a song — something by </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Maine</span>
  </em>
  <span> — he finally answers, “Maybe? I’m not sure. I’ve never really been to one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny knows that being a player on the team makes him a little biased, but also, “You’re a senior and you’ve never been to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>football game?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t have anyone to go with!” Patrick defends, “It's not much fun when you’re alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And okay, fair point. But Jonny’s a determined soul, so he says, “What about Artemi? Do you think he’d like to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick sits back in his seat and thinks. “Maybe. He might get scared from all the noise, though. I could ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny nods, “And, you know, I could ask some of the guys’ girlfriends to meet you. It’s usually Abby, Dayna, and Kristy, but I’m sure they’d love to show you the ropes of the games. They help the paint-up crew before the games and then hang out in the corner of the bleachers to swoon over their boyfriends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick laughs, loud and bright, and says, “Okay, sure. Just let me text my mom and let her know to drop me off at the school when she gets me from the Y.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awesome,” Jonny grins, “I’ll be number nineteen.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s my birthday,” Patrick giggles, “November nineteenth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny watches in his peripherals as Patrick types out a string of messages to his mother. His car should be done within the next few weeks, which means their carpooling will come to an end. It strikes Jonny hard in the gut, and he finds himself asking, “Where does your mom work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick presses </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘send’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and pockets his phone. “At one of the senior living homes, on the other side of town. She’s a nurse there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny frowns a little. She’s coming all that way to pick up Patrick, and she’s probably exhausted. He goes to say something, he’s not really sure what, when Patrick gasps and shrieks, “Look, it’s a woodchuck!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>——</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny only realizes what he’s done when he’s putting on his eye black in the lobby of the athletic building, ready to run down the gravel pathway and onto the field. He’s invited Patrick to the game. Patrick’s going to be watching him play.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be sick.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be fine,” Crow laughs, slinging an arm around his waist, “Just use that nervousness to crush the Whalers. Show off a little for him, y’know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get a touchdown and do a dance for him in the endzone,” Sharpy teases like the dick he is, “Or maybe blow him a kiss, eh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re all despicable.” Jonny huffs and doesn’t have time to throw up because suddenly Coach is blowing the whistle and they’re taking off out of the building and down the pathway. He can hear the cheers of the home crowd get louder when they see their team coming, getting to their feet and stomping together on the metal bleachers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s easy when Jonny crouches onto the fake grass, ready for Sharpy to shout the play. He stares down the Whaler in front of him, and when he hears the ball snap, he takes off, muscle memory putting in the work so he can focus on where the ball is rather than where he is. <br/></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dances around a Whalers defensemen, catching the ball at the thirty yard line before he’s tackled. He hits the ground hard, but he absorbs the impact, rolling with it until his momentum has stopped. Murph drags him to his feet with a proud holler in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Jonny’s allowed on the bench, he takes a water bottle and scans the crowd. Two of the cheerleaders are Stromer and Brinksy’s girlfriends, both of them flyers that soar through the air when play is stopped. The front row of the bleachers is the paint-up crew, girls with Hawaiian shirts and colorful handprints on their arms and legs, boys shirtless with painted chest for tonight’s theme: Hawaiian night. To the far left is the band section, dancing in their seats with their instruments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are a multitude of people out tonight, since it’s rival-against-rival, parents with little kids that have tried to show their support with the theme of the night and students from all four grades taking up almost every spot on the bleachers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny scans the crowd three times, unable to find Patrick — and for one brief, horrible moment, he thinks Patrick didn’t come. That he’s messing around on the YMCA rink instead of coming out to see Jonny, which is fine, he’s got the right to do what he wants, even though Jonny’s more than a little hurt about it. But then, he sees him, standing up and waving an arm around on the third row of the bleachers. Artemi is on one side of him and there are two girls on his other that look too much like him to not be his sisters. They’re all dressed for the theme, but Jonny’s eye is on Patrick, his terrible Hawaiian shirt and rainbow-colored lei. He’s got some face paint on, green and blue dots alternating in color and sweeping over his right eye and under his left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny waves, relief washing over him. Patrick came. Patrick came because Jonny asked him to. God, he’s so good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They play hard, but by halftime, they’re barely leading by a touchdown. They clear the field and head back up the pathway where there’s Gatorade and snacks waiting for them. Stromer and Dacher make a dive for the Gatorade gummies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny sits on the bench outside the athletic building, sipping his Gatorade and listening to the band play the halftime show. He can see flags spinning around in the air from the colorguard team.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey hey,” Seabs greets, sitting beside him and spraying water in his mouth, “Find your boy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not my boy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jonny wants to say, but he doesn’t, because he says, “Yes,” instead. Seabs gives him a wicked smirk and downs a cup of Gatorade. The team somehow overhears, because suddenly they’re cheering, teasing Jonny with “ooo”s and swatting him in the face with their sweaty towels. Jonny kicks at one of them — Duncs, he’s pretty sure — and calls them all whores.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coach gives them a pep talk that re-energizes them, but by the end of the third period, they’re down by seven and the team is starting to get sulky. Jonny sprays water in their faces and yells at them, because he’s the captain, and that’s what he does. Sharpy wrists off a beautiful toss that Jonny catches midair, and all he has to do is take off from the twenty yard line, and the game is within one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny throws the ball on the ground, yelling with the crowd and his teammates, and he points a finger in the stands, right at Patrick, and hopes he knows what that means. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna get your dick sucked tonight, man,” Sharpy cheers, tossing an arm over his shoulders and leading him to the bench, “If he doesn’t, then I will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think Abby would be too fond of that.” Jonny chirps, spraying his face with water for a cool down. It might be October, but Jonny runs hot. God, if only football was a spring sport. Or he lived in the south. He kind of wants to jump in a pool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, they lose by a field goal, which sucks, especially since this was Patrick’s first game. Jonny’s rinsing off in the showers, sulking, when Sharpy punches him in the shoulder and says, “You played good, Taze. I think Patrick had a great time, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lost. Jonny invited Patrick to a game and they lost. How could he have had a good time? “What makes you say that?” Jonny asks as he turns off the spray and grabs a towel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sharpy shrugs. “He told me. I saw him outside a minute ago. Think he was waiting for you. I told him I’d come get you. He seemed pretty happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny’s eyes bug out of his head. “Patrick’s waiting for me? Why didn’t you say something?” He shouts, taking off out of the showers and barely avoiding a slippery death. He throws on his clothes, hair still dripping wet and arms a little moist, and he heads out through the back doors that lead to the field where the students exit the bleachers to get to their cars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as Sharpy said, there’s Patrick, laughing with Artemi, the brunet, and those two girls, chilling against the fence. Waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the girls has handprints on her thighs and arms, which means she probably goes to the high school, but the other doesn’t. Artemi is wearing Patrick’s lei, talking to the younger girl in rushed words that Jonny can’t understand. As he gets closer to them, he sees that some of the face paint has chipped away, and the smell of strawberry sugar is so intense Jonny has to stop in the middle of the walkway to recollect himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he greets when he finally gets over there, and Patrick spins around with a beaming smile on his face, throws his arms around Jonny, and says, “Sorry about the loss. But you played awesome!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny freezes, but then immediately wraps his arms around Patrick and hugs him tight. “Thanks. Sorry we couldn’t get that win for your first game, but I hope you had fun anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick pulls away, which is a terrible thing, but he stays close to Jonny’s side as he introduces the people in his group. “This is Artemi. He’s in my Greek mythology class. He’s just moved here from Russia this year, so I’ve kind of taken him under my wing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re corrupting him,” says Jonny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick gasps in mock offense. “Hey, I am a fantastic person.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny smiles, closed-mouthed and amused, and bites his tongue to keep back his remarks. He’s not sure if they’ll be mean or if he’ll spill all of his feelings, and he’d rather not do that in front of people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is my sister, Erica,” Patrick continues, “She’s a sophomore here. And that’s my other sister, Jessica. She’s an eighth grader at the junior high. Our youngest sister, Jackie, couldn’t come. Guys, this is Jonny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wave to him, and his sisters suddenly wander off after one of Erica’s friends. Patrick sighs, “Teenagers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny rolls his eyes and gives him a gentle smack on the back of his head. Patrick only smiles at him, all gap-tooth and pearly whites. Jonny loves it when he smiles. “So, d’you have fun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patrick slings an arm over the boys’ shoulders. “So much fun,” he says, “We pretty much spent all our money on candy and soda. I’m not sleeping at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Candy!” Artemi cheers, mouth a sugary blue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a terrible influence,” Jonny sighs, “But I’m glad you had fun. You should come out more often.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gentle waft of ice and snow lifts into the air. Patrick looks pleased. “I’ll do my best.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look at each other for a moment. The area gets quieter the longer Jonny stares, caught up on the blue of Patrick’s eyes and the candy-red tint on his lips. There’s a smudge of paint under his eye where one of the dots has mostly chipped away, but before Jonny can reach out and swipe it away, Patrick’s phone rings with an alarm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They break eye contact, and his senses come roaring back, the loud talking of the people around him and the smell of corndogs filling his nose. Patrick checks his phone to look at the time. “I need to find the girls and head home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny nods, feeling like half of his brain is somewhere behind him. “Yeah, of course,” then, “How did you get here?” His car is still in the shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hotwired some kid’s car,” Patrick shrugs, then giggles like he’s funny, “My dad let me use his car.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jonny nods again, gripping his duffel bag in one hand. He doesn’t want Patrick to leave, but he’s got to let him, so he wraps Patrick in a hug again and ducks his head to whisper quiet in his ear, “I’m really you came tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels Patrick shiver in his arms. When they pull away, his cheeks are pink and he’s smiling bashfully. “Me too,” he admits, earnest, “I’ll see you Monday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Monday,” Jonny agrees, and watches as Patrick disappears into the crowd. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you catch my Vancouver reference</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In this chapter, Jonny briefly experiences separation anxiety. It’s not a strong theme, but if it’s something that could trigger you, please be cautious :)</p><p>Also keep in mind that I used google translate and the two semesters of French I took in school to write the French sentences, so please let me know if something is incorrect so that I can fix it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny’s grandfather dies on Wednesday. Thursday, he goes to school to get his assignments and tells his teachers and his coach that he’ll be back Tuesday. </p><p>Patrick must be able to see it on his face when Jonny grabs him and pulls him into the hallway before he walks into their math class. “What happened?” He asks, face etched in worry. “What’s the matter?”</p><p>Jonny’s eyes are still a little red and burning from the crying he’s been doing in the bathrooms before each period. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and pretends he’s scratching an itch. “My, uh, my grandpére — grandfather — died yesterday. We’re going to Québec for his funeral, and I’ll be gone tomorrow and Monday. So you should make travel plans.”</p><p>“Oh,” Patrick says, “I’m so sorry, Jonny.”</p><p>Jonny shrugs and tries to hold back the tears that start welling up in his eyes again. He hasn’t seen his grandpére since they moved away, but he’s gotten birthday cards and Christmas presents from him and his grandmére. Jonny talked to him just two weeks ago, to wish him a happy 80th birthday. It’s hard to believe he’s gone.</p><p>Patrick rests a gentle, soothing hand on Jonny’s arm. “Do you want a hug?”</p><p>Jonny hates being hugged when he’s sad, because then he gets all wishy-washy. But a hug from Patrick sounds really nice, so he nods, and is immediately swept into Patrick’s tight embrace. Jonny holds on tight, stuffing his face in the crook of Patrick’s neck with a wet exhale. Patrick squeezes around his torso, nestling his cheek against Jonny’s chest.</p><p>Pressed this close, Jonny can feel the beat of Patrick’s heart, smell the gentle mixture of strawberries and chocolate, a smell that sinks deep into Jonny’s skin and settles in his bones. He feels himself slowly start to relax in Patrick’s arms. Jonny thinks Patrick might be trying to project calm, but that’s impossible, because betas can’t react to projected emotions, because it’s all in the pheromones. Patrick must just be really good at hugs. </p><p>Patrick pulls away a little when Mrs. Mattentov pokes her head out into the hallway and says in a soft voice, “Class is starting, boys.”</p><p>Jonny makes a noise of protest when Patrick moves, but Patrick shushes him and slowly frees himself for Jonny’s hold. Patrick rubs his hands up and down Jonny’s arms in a soothing matter, cooing, “It’s okay. C’mon, I’ll be right beside you.”</p><p>Patrick lets go, but they walk into the classroom together with their arms pressed against each other. Sharpy says nothing, just gathers his things and switches spots with Patrick. Jonny can’t even find it in himself to thank him, or even smile, too lost in needing Patrick’s touch again. </p><p>They sit beside each other and the lesson begins, but Jonny doesn’t pay attention. He’s focused on Patrick, where his right ankle is wrapped around Jonny’s left, Patrick’s right hand holding Jonny’s, fingers twined together and gently caressing the skin above Jonny’s thumb. For the first time since he got the news, he feels like he can breathe a little easier.</p><p>——</p><p>Jonny texts Patrick the entire time he’s in Québec. They play iPhone games and Patrick tells Jonny all the details of his Halloween costume. He’s going as the Flash, and he’s got red skinny jeans and skin-tight red shirt, and his mother is going to iron a lightning bolt patch that they bought off of Amazon onto it. </p><p><em> Im SOL on a mask lol, </em>he texts Jonny.</p><p>Jonny writes back: <em> I think your tights will distract from the missing mask, </em>because come on. Patrick’s ass in pants tight enough to be mistaken for skin? No one is going to notice he doesn’t have a mask.</p><p><em> they r not tights!!! </em> is the reply Jonny gets back.</p><p>They have the funeral two days after Jonny and his family arrive. He gets a little emotional through the service but is able to get through it, as long as he keeps his eyes off his mother who is crying her eyes out beside him. </p><p>There’s a wake right after the burial. Jonny sits in the corner of the room by the buffet table with his little cousin. She sits in his lap, little enough to fit, and plays with her dolls while Jonny sneaks her pieces of candy and explains to Patrick in full detail why butter tarts beat strawberry shortcake in a landslide. </p><p>His grandmother walks up to him as he’s typing back a response to Patrick’s <em> ‘u better bring me back one of those chicken salad crosonts’ </em>.</p><p><em> It’s spelled croissant dumbass, </em> he sends, <em> And I will. </em></p><p>“I see you’re smiling,” she says to him, and when he shifts guiltily, adds, “That’s good. It’s important to be able to smile during hard times.” </p><p>Jonny’s phone pings with a new message from Patrick. <em> ‘Ur the dumbass, dumbass.’ </em></p><p>Jonny blushes when his grandmother sees the curse words on his phone, but she just smiles knowingly at him. “Have you found someone, then?”</p><p>Jonny types out a quick reply before pocketing his phone. “Ma-maybe?” He says, at the same time his little cousin, still curled up in his lap, exclaims, “His name is Patrick!”</p><p>Jonny blushes furiously at his grandmother’s pleased look. “Yes, Patrick. He’s an omega.”</p><p>His grandmother pats the top of his hand. “Good. I’m glad you’ve got someone that can make you smile like that.”</p><p>His phone pings again, and again, and again. Jonny closes his eyes in defeat against his grandmother’s laughter. “An omega, you say?” Jonny nods with a soft hum, pulling his phone back out to read his messages. </p><p>
  <em> I don’t no y ur so mean to me Jonny </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I bless u with great music during our car rides </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Im a catch </em>
</p><p>Heatedly, Jonny texts back <em> ‘your taste in music is almost as bad as your grammar’ </em>and hits send, fully aware that his grandmother is still watching him with an amused eye. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “He’s definitely something.”</p><p>His grandmother coos. “Well, it’s good that he has a nice alpha friend that he can trust.”</p><p>Alpha friend? “Who, me?” Jonny furrows his eyebrows, “I’m not an alpha. I’m a beta.”</p><p>His grandmother’s eyebrows go up. “What are you—”</p><p>They’re interrupted by his mother coming over and asking her about the lilies. Immediately, her focus is pulled from their conversation to the flowers she’s planted. “Oh! They were a gift from Rebecca about two years ago. She’s bought me so many. Here, you can take some home with you if you’d like…”</p><p>She and her mother walk away, conversation forgotten in the air between them. His little cousin jumps off his lap and runs after them. Jonny shakes his head and goes back to chirping Patrick. <em> ‘You better not be eating my cookies from Mrs. Zebettini.’ </em></p><p>——</p><p><em> “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you can speak French,” </em>Patrick huffs from over FaceTime that night, curled up in his bed. He looks cozy, snuggled under his blankets and pressed against a line of pillows on the wall.</p><p>“It just slipped my mind,” Jonny shrugs, as well as he can when he’s lying down, “Speaking French isn’t that big of a deal.”</p><p><em> “Are you insane?” </em> Patrick scoffs, <em> “French is like, the universal language for love. And sex. And curse words.” </em></p><p>Jonny is fully aware that speaking French turns a lot of people on. He’s also aware that Patrick finds it extraordinarily attractive, considering when he says, “Tu as des cheveux terribles,” Patrick swallows shakily with big, wide eyes even though Jonny just said he had terrible hair.</p><p><em> “See?” </em> Patrick says in a higher voice than before, <em> “Hot.” </em></p><p>Jonny smirks. He doesn’t quite understand the sex appeal to speaking French, but if it gets Patrick going, he thinks he can live with it. After all, isn’t his entire life’s goal to turn Patrick into a blushing puddle of blue eyes and horrible hair? </p><p>“You don’t even know what I’m saying,” Jonny laughs, pulling the blankets up around his shoulders, “Pour une personne intelligente, vous êtes incroyablement stupide.”</p><p><em> “You called me stupid.” </em> Patrick says, <em> “I heard you call me stupid.” </em></p><p>“I also called you smart.”</p><p>Patrick pouts, so Jonny says, “La seule raison pour laquelle je suis capitaine de l'équipe parce que je leur crie dessus beaucoup.</p><p>Patrick tilts his head a little. <em> “What did you say there?” </em></p><p>Jonny grins, “The only reason I’m captain is because I yell at the team a lot.”</p><p>Patrick throws his head back and laughs, like Jonny being an asshole to people is funny to him. Jonny is incapable of being an asshole to Patrick, though, but he’s not allowed to know that. </p><p>He watches Patrick settle down and look back at his phone screen, waiting for more French sentences. He’s still snickering a little, teeth out and eyes sparkling. Jonny can’t help but stare. “T’as de beaux yeux.”</p><p>
  <em> “What does that mean?” </em>
</p><p>Jonny smiles, soft. “You have beautiful eyes.”</p><p>Patrick’s mouth parts a little, surprised, and gets a red tint on his cheeks that flushes across the bridge of his nose and to his ears. “Oh.”</p><p>Jonny keeps smiling at him. Somehow, he can sense that Patrick is pleased even though he’s not there. It’s a nice feeling, one that he doesn’t want to ruin by questioning it, so he lets it settle in the spot behind his ribs and asks Patrick about his day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jonny Toews speaking French is hotter than the sun and you can’t change my mind</p><p>Also this chapter was a little shorter this time so expect chapter 5 within the next few days</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny can hardly breathe, the heat dragging his lungs down into his stomach. The air is sticky around them, fogging up his head, the smell of strawberries coated thick in his nose and his throat. He can <em> taste </em>it as he pushes in, and farther in still, deep enough to make Patrick gasp and cry out against Jonny’s skin.</p><p>“Jonny,” Patrick whimpers, trembling in Jonny’s arms, his heat scent clogging up his brain. Jonny thrusts faster, chasing the moment that Patrick will spill all over them and overwhelm Jonny’s senses even more.</p><p>Patrick’s making such pretty noises under him, nosing across Jonny’s neck. Despite the sticky heat in the air, the ice in Patrick’s scent brings a cool sensation down his spine, keeping him in the moment. He’s got to be careful. For all that Patrick is muscle and fierce, Jonny could still break him easily. He can’t lose control, and he fights the urge to toss Patrick’s legs over his shoulders and fuck until he can’t walk, until he’s covered in so much of Jonny’s scent that he won’t even have to bite him for the world to know that he belongs to Jonny. </p><p>“Jonny,” Patrick sobs, starting to come, and—</p><p>Jonny jolts awake at the sound of his phone alarm blaring in his ear. He frantically throws a hand out, smacking around on the bedside table until he’s able to hit the snooze button and shut the thing up. Wide awake, Jonny looks around for Patrick, but the blond omega is nowhere in sight. </p><p><em> “Fuck,” </em>he curses, and tries to smother himself with his pillow. Of course it was a dream. In what world would Patrick let Jonny help him through his heat? He needs an alpha, not some beta with a probably-unhealthy attachment to him. </p><p>Still, he’s got a raging hard-on and half an hour before he has to pick up Patrick. He slips a hand under the covers and dips inside his underwear, taking himself in his hand. He hisses at the sensitivity, leg jerking and tanking the sheets farther down his body. He tips his head back as he tightens his grip and starts the slow drag up, so wet with precome that he doesn’t need lube. </p><p>He’s probably going to come in a minute flat, but he thinks about Patrick anyway, about his hole wrapped around Jonny or— or his hand. He closes his eyes and sees Patrick behind his lids, hovering over him with his lips on Jonny’s jaw and his hand between Jonny’s legs. Patrick has such soft hands; they’d feel so nice around his cock. </p><p>“Oh,” Jonny moans and spills into his fingers, gasping and panting into the open air. He wishes Patrick were here.</p><p>He stays in bed until the next alarm, catching his breath and trying to calm his racing heart. Then he gets up and washes his hands, ready to start the day.</p><p>——</p><p>“I’m picking you up after you’re done today,” Jonny tells Patrick as he’s making their daily drive to the Y. </p><p>Patrick blinks at him. “What? You don’t have to. My ma can pick me up.”</p><p>“Yeah, but she works at the senior home all the way on the other side of town.”</p><p>Patrick’s lips part in surprise, “You remember that?”</p><p>“Well, yeah; and I’m sure she’s tired after working with her added hours.” He shrugs, “It’s really no big deal for me. Honest.”</p><p>Patrick looks at him for a while, as if he’s trying to pick apart Jonny to figure out what he wants out of Patrick. He hopes he doesn’t find out that Jonny wants to be around Patrick, as much as he can, all the time. That would be embarrassing.</p><p>“Okay,” Patrick finally relents, “but you’re letting me pay you back for gas!”</p><p>Jonny starts to argue, but Patrick goes, <em> “Zip it,” </em> and Jonny shuts his mouth. “That’s my deal. I’ll let you pick me up <em> only </em>if you let me give you gas money.”</p><p>Jonny really, really doesn’t want that. He doesn’t need money. He just wants to make sure Patrick gets around okay, and Jonny knows that he’ll be safe if Jonny’s the one getting him to and fro, because Jonny can keep him safe. He doesn’t want Patrick to think he has to pay for his presence.</p><p>Patrick must be able to read that on his face, or maybe he can feel it, because omegas can sense stuff like that, because he says, “It’s just to make me feel better. You’ve been so nice to me. It makes me feel good to be able to repay you.”</p><p>And, well. If it makes Patrick feel good, then Jonny supposes he can get behind it, especially if it solidifies being able to be with Patrick more. So he nods, says, “Deal,” and sinks into the intensifying smell of strawberries. </p><p>“You smell nice,” he mumbles, filter turned off by the sweet smell of Patrick’s scent, but is immediately turned on again when he realizes what he just said, “Uh, I mean your cologne. It smells nice. You’re— uh…”</p><p>But Patrick doesn’t seem offended. He giggles, pink blooming across his cheeks. “I don’t wear cologne, Jonny.”</p><p>Jonny is relieved when he pulls into the parking lot of the Y. He parks and ducks his head to his shoulders, mortified. “Sorry. I know— betas shouldn’t be able to smell it.” </p><p>“I don’t care about betas, Jonny,” Patrick says in an assuring tone, gathering his things, and he must mean that he doesn’t care about <em> other </em> betas because he adds, “but I’m glad you think I smell nice.” Which is good, because Patrick doesn’t care about the opinions of most betas, but he does care about Jonny’s. Jonny bites down the feeling of pride that swells when he realizes that he’s Patrick’s exception. </p><p>And then, Patrick kisses his cheek and bolts out of the car, and Jonny’s brain short-circuits. </p><p>——</p><p>It’s mid-October, so there’s a nice chill in the air that keeps Jonny on his toes as he runs laps around the field. In front of him, he can see Stromer falling behind, yelling out something to Brinksy and Dacher who are jogging happily in front of him, something about, “You’re both assholes. Slow <em> down.” </em></p><p>Coach has them running ten laps to end practice today, and most of the guys are trying to sprint through it, eager to finish their laps and get home, but Jonny keeps an even pace as he crosses the line of his ninth lap, lost in his head. </p><p>Despite getting off this morning, Jonny’s felt horny all day, all because of that stupid dream. He’d be fine, busying himself with his schoolwork and last-minute cramming for tests that he forgot about, except that now he’s had that dream. He remembers what it felt like to push inside of Patrick, bare and slick and rattled with the smell of heat. Every time he heard Patrick talk, or laugh, he could hear dream-Patrick’s whimpers and moans in his ear. Every time Jonny saw him, he could see the look of bliss on his face as Jonny shoved inside. God, <em> God. </em></p><p>“You okay there, Cap?” Sharpy asks, jogging up beside him and startling Jonny so hard he nearly trips over his feet. </p><p>“Huh?” Says Jonny eloquently. </p><p>Sharpy shakes his head at him, amused. “Nevermind,” he says, then, “Some of the guys are going to Cook-Out after practice. They’ve got a new bacon burger that looks like it could give you a heart attack. You wanna come?”</p><p>Leave it to his team to want the most unhealthy item on the menu of a barbecue-style restaurant. There’s probably bets going on too, jeez. “No thanks,” he shakes his head, coming to a stop as they break their tenth lap, heading to the fence where there are towels and water bottles for them, “I’m picking Patrick up later.”</p><p>Sharpy sprays water into his mouth, shivering when the cold droplets splash onto his face. “Picking him up, eh?”</p><p>“Not like that,” Jonny rolls his eyes at Sharpy’s smirk as he towels off his sweat-drenched hair, “He volunteers at the Y. I’ll be picking him up and dropping him at home.” </p><p>They wave to their teammates — Stromer has collapsed onto the track and is crawling his way to the finish, but Brinksy and Dacher have slowed enough for him to catch up — and head into the athletic building to change and grab their stuff. </p><p>“You’re already taking him to school and driving him to the YMCA,” Sharpy tells him in the locker room, “It’s a lot.”</p><p>Jonny shrugs, feeling a flicker of annoyance inside his chest. Sharpy makes it sound like Patrick is a <em> burden. </em> “I volunteered to do all of that. I’m happy to help him. I <em> want </em>to. Don’t say— he’s not—”</p><p>“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” Sharpy says, holding his hands up in defense, “I just mean that it’s a lot of your time.”</p><p>Jonny tugs on his shirt and grabs his duffel. “I don’t mind. It’s better than sitting at home and playing video games.”</p><p>“Still salty I beat your high score at Mario Kart?” Sharpy grins, fucker that he is, and the tension in the room disappears. </p><p>“You wish,” Jonny snorts as they make their way to the parking lot, “I’ve already beaten your score.”</p><p>“Blasphemy!” Sharpy cries, “I demand a rematch!”</p><p>Jonny unlocks his door and tosses his duffel in the backseat. He waves at Sharpy and his pickup truck parked beside him, flips him the bird, and gets into his car. He rolls down the window when he sees Sharpy leaning out of his door.</p><p>He yells, obnoxiously, “Go get your omega!”</p><p>Jonny sputters, off-guard, and watches Sharpy laugh and drive away. Jonny pouts in his car for five minutes before changing gears and pulling out of the parking space. </p><p>He’s cruising around, killing some time as he makes his way to the Y, and passes by a Sonic. He’s immediately reminded that all Patrick has for snacks is a couple granola bars, so he flicks on his turn signal and pulls into the parking lot. </p><p>Patrick, despite being a swimmer and working out, will eat junk food until the day he dies, especially if it’s in spite of Jonny. He remembers stopping for McDonald’s last Tuesday before he dropped Patrick at the Y, and Patrick ordered a ten-piece nugget with barbecue sauce. When Jonny had raised an eyebrow and gave him a judgemental look, Patrick ordered an apple pie just to piss him off. </p><p>He orders Patrick a corndog and some tater-tots, but replaces the slushie with a bottle of water because he’s not about to give Patrick diabetes along with his inevitably clogged arteries. He orders a hotdog for himself, pays for the meal, and makes the left turn to get to the Y.</p><p>He thinks about waiting outside for Patrick, munch on his hotdog and keep the car warm; but he kind of wants to watch Patrick teaching a bunch of kids to swim and laugh when one of them tries to drown him. </p><p>See also: Patrick shirtless and dripping wet.</p><p>He decides to go in — for science, you know — and brings the bag of food with him. He goes down a hallway that enters into a lobby, and down another, smaller hallway has three doors. The door he can see into looks like the entrance to a weight room or gym. </p><p>“Can I help you?” Someone says, and Jonny spins around to find the woman sitting behind a counter. </p><p>Jonny walks up to her, clutching the paper bag in his hand. “Uh, I brought a snack for one of your volunteers. I was hoping I could drop it off with him.”</p><p>The woman smiles kindly at him. “What’s the name?”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Of the volunteer.”</p><p>“Oh,” Jonny says, “Pat— uh, Patrick. Kane. He gives swimming lessons.”</p><p>She taps something out on the keyboard, then asks, “What’s your name and age?”</p><p>Jonny has no idea why that’s relevant, but he guesses it’s not his place to ask about it. “Jonathan Toews — that’s T-O-E-W-S, and I’m eighteen.” </p><p>“May I see some ID?”</p><p>This seems like an awful lot to just drop off some food. But this day and age you can never be too careful, he supposes. He grabs his wallet and hands her his driver’s license. </p><p>Finally, when she hands it back, she tells him that he can go on in, but that he will need a membership to go back there next time. He nods, making a note in the back of his mind to get that done, and asks her where the pool is. </p><p>“Go all the way down that hall and take a right,” she says, “Have a nice day.”</p><p>He nods and says the same before hurrying to the doors. He hopes he’s not too late.</p><p>The pool is bustling with people, both in the water and on the sidelines. There are some older people on the right side of the shallow end, some floating into the deep end on pool noodles. There are people that look only a little older than Jonny who are swimming laps, middle schoolers diving into the deep end with their friends. Parents are scattered across the sidelines and walkways, talking or watching their kids. At the left side of the shallow end of the pool, a handful of little kids are getting out and being towelled off by their parents. </p><p>He spots Patrick among the little kids — he blends in with them very well — helping them out of the water and over the sides of the pool. He’s smiling, talking to one of the moms who has a tiny baby in her arms. He stays in the pool, treading water at the dip where shallow end meets deep end, nodding along to the mom. </p><p>Cautiously, Jonny makes his way over to them. It looks like he’s finishing up his class, but has made no move to leave the water. He spots Jonny when he’s about five feet from him. </p><p>His face does a series of twists before settling on surprise, but he looks pleased to see him, so Jonny counts it as a win. “Jonny! What are you doing here?”</p><p>Jonny smiles down at him and holds up the bag. “Brought you a snack. I was gonna wait for you, but I wanted to see you in action.”</p><p>Patrick beams at him. “What’d you get me?”</p><p>“A corndog and some tots.”</p><p>“I don’t see a slushie.”</p><p>“You eat too much sugar.”</p><p>Patrick pouts and turns to the mom in front of him. “He’s so mean to me.”</p><p>The chlorine from the pool mutes most of the scents, but in close proximity he can tell that the mom is a gamma. The baby in her arms stares at Jonny with her fingers in her mouth, no more than seven months old. </p><p>Patrick turns back to Jonny, “I was just about to give baby Lily her first swimming lesson.”</p><p>Jonny raises his eyebrows. “Really? How old is she?”</p><p>“Five months as of yesterday,” the mom tells him, “I’ve heard it’s good to introduce them to the water early.”</p><p>“It sure is,” Patrick nods, “It’s not <em> super </em> important — you can teach them to swim at any age — but the earlier you start, the more instinctual it becomes.”</p><p>He grabs a small towel from off to the side and dunks it in the water to get it wet. He wrings it out a little, then sets it on the floor at the mom’s feet. “Lay her on her back on the towel.” Both she and Jonny move to sit down, ignoring the water that seeps into his pants in favor of watching Patrick work. “This is going to get her aware of the water — the wetness, the temperature, so that it’s not a completely new thing when she gets in.” </p><p>Lily stares up at her mother with wide eyes, chewing on her fingers. Patrick tickles her toes, and Lily erupts into shrieking giggles, laughing and kicking out her chubby chicken legs. Jonny’s heart seizes in his chest at the look of pure joy on Patrick’s face.</p><p>After a moment, Patrick picks Lily up and cradles her up towards his chest. He looks good with a baby in his arms, touching her tummy and the space between her eyes, cooing down at her to keep her relaxed. He moves more into the shallow end, farther from the deep end, then looks up at the mother to say, “Ready?”</p><p>And then, at the mom’s nod, he drops Lily into the water with a loud splash. </p><p>Jonny jolts in surprise, feels a heavy flare of panic slam headfirst into him, but before he can do anything, Lily is rising to the surface. Her face is scrunched up in shock and her tiny hands are balled into fists, but she’s kicking and flailing which means that she’s alive. </p><p>“What the hell?” </p><p>Patrick looks up at Jonny, hands hovering just under Lily’s little body in the water but not quite touching. “What?”</p><p>Jonny blinks, incredulous. <em> “What </em> what? You just dropped a baby in the pool. A <em> baby. </em>You let go of her!” </p><p>The confusion on Patrick’s face disappears and softens into something else. “That’s how you get babies used to the water. They have a natural buoyancy that prevents them from drowning. The older they get, the less buoyant they get, and it goes away. They’re also born with an instinct to hold their breath underwater, which also goes away as they get older. Lily is young enough to have both of those abilities.”</p><p>The panic clawing at Jonny’s chest eases as Patrick explains. The mom must have known this, because she’s completely calm beside him, nothing like the mess Jonny is right now. “Oh.”</p><p>“Oh,” Patrick mocks, playful, then lifts Lily out of the water and into the towel draped across her mother’s waiting arms, “I think that’s good for today. Come back later this week and we’ll do it again.”</p><p>As the mom goes to grab her things, Patrick looks up at Jonny with an amused smile. “You really thought I would drop a baby that couldn’t swim into the water?”</p><p>Jonny’s face flushes, and he shrugs. “I dunno. <em> No. </em>I just didn’t expect you to just let go of her like that.”</p><p>Patrick pats Jonny’s thigh reassuringly, leaving a wet handprint on his khakis. It’s the perfect placement for his hand if he was holding Jonny’s thigh while he was—</p><p><em> Nope. </em>No. He’s not about to pop a boner when there are kids around. Absolutely not. </p><p>Patrick, oblivious to Jonny’s inner turmoil, wades to the spot beside Jonny and puts his hands on the floor, hoisting himself up and out of the water. Jonny watches his biceps strain, back muscles clenching as he brings a knee to the floor to lift himself onto the sidelines. He gets a nice side shot of Patrick’s ass encased in his tight wet bathing suit, which is <em> not </em>helping. At all.</p><p>Water droplets slide down Patrick’s bare skin as he gets to his feet and reaches for his towel, falling into the divots of his clavicles and into the waistband of his trunks. When Patrick turns to dry his hair, Jonny spots a droplet slip down his back and over his suit, then settle into the little spot where Patrick’s ass curves. Jonny’s mouth is suddenly very dry. He bets that it would help if he licks all the water off of Patrick’s body.</p><p>“I’m gonna hit the locker room to change,” Patrick says, snapping Jonny out of his thoughts, “I’ll be, like, five minutes. Don’t go anywhere. I want that corndog.”</p><p>For a hot second, Jonny thinks that Patrick means his <em> dick. </em>But no, he means the actual corndog that Jonny bought him. </p><p>Jonny has a serious problem.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope this slightly-longer chapter made up for the shorter chapter from the last update, featuring Jonny realizing how stupidly gone for Patrick he is, now in three different flavors: wet dreams, buying him unhealthy food, and popping boners at the YMCA.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IMPORTANT NOTE: a character experiences a sort of panic attack in this chapter. It’s more of a thrall or a domspace brought on by dynamics, but it can be read as a panic attack, so please be cautious when you come to that point in the chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny’s had a weird feeling since he woke up that morning.</p><p>He’s jittery, and there’s a little tingle in the back of his head that tells him to be on alert. The last time he felt that, Patrick almost got run over by a car. The thought is— concerning. </p><p>But Patrick’s alive and breathing when Jonny picks him up that morning, smiling and telling him all about his argument with Erica over cherry Pop Tarts versus cookies and creme. The only difference is that there’s a gentle twinge to his scent, a little vanilla-y, but it smells good and makes Jonny feel all calm and sated, so Jonny just relaxes into the car ride and agrees with whatever Patrick’s saying. He can’t actually have Pop Tarts because of his gluten problem, but if Patrick says cookies and creme is the best, then cookies and creme is the best.</p><p>Things are fine, up until they start walking into the school together, because Jonny is suddenly hyper aware of how many people are looking at them. No — looking at <em> Patrick. </em> Some of them are walking a little closer to him than normal, and all of them are alphas. Patrick, of course, is none the wiser, just continues to ramble to Jonny about the English test he has during second period. </p><p>Jonny feels a low growl build up in the base of his throat, but he stops himself. There’s no reason to growl at anyone, despite the little voice in the back of his head that is looking at them all as a threat. </p><p>He elects to ignore them and the voice, but he presses close to Patrick and tucks a hand under his backpack, rests it on the small of his back as he guides him into the school and away from the people closing in on him. Jonny doesn’t even realize he’s walked Patrick to his class until he puts a hand on Jonny’s arm and says, “You’re going to be late.” And oh. This is marine biology. Not world history.</p><p>“Right,” Jonny nods, looking down at him, “Okay.” He moves his hands to Patrick’s arms protectively, subconsciously shielding Patrick with his body from the trickle of people in the hallway. He’s not sure why. Patrick can take care of himself. </p><p>Still, he doesn’t move until Patrick takes his hands, gives them a tight squeeze, and tells him to go to class. He’s not annoyed, though. In fact, he smells <em> pleased, </em>like he’s proud of Jonny for walking him to his class and taking such good care of him. Because that’s exactly what Jonny did, because Patrick is safe with him. </p><p>Jonny nods again, and waits until Patrick is safely in his classroom before he turns and hustles to his own class. </p><p>——</p><p>Jonny is acutely aware of where Patrick is all day. He can <em> smell </em>him, even on the other side of the school. Strawberries and ice and vanilla. The vanilla is new, today at least, but just like in the car that morning it makes Jonny a little lax. Maybe a lot lax. </p><p>“Are you high?” Sharpy asks as they’re walking to math class. Math class, where Patrick is. Will be. He’s still in the fine arts hall right now. “You know Coach will kick you off the team if you’re high.”</p><p>“I’m not high,” Jonny scoffs, distracted.</p><p>Sharpy gives him an unimpressed look, “Could’a fooled me.”</p><p>“Do you smell that,” asks Jonny, “Patrick?”</p><p>“You’re not making any sense.”</p><p>Jonny takes his seat at his desk and waits. The person who sits in front of him is absent, which means Jonny will be able to see Patrick perfectly — the back of him, at least. </p><p>“Can you smell Patrick? Right now?”</p><p>Sharpy stares, and stares, and stares. Jonny feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck. “What?”</p><p><em> “No, </em>I can’t smell Patrick. Why would I be able to?”</p><p>Because Sharpy is an alpha, that’s why. If Jonny can smell him, Sharpy should definitely be able to smell him. </p><p>When Patrick walks into the room, he spots Jonny immediately, like he was looking for him, and waves. His eyes are more distant than they were this morning though, a little glazed over. The smell of vanilla is even stronger.</p><p>“Oh,” Sharpy says when Patrick sits down, “Now I get it.”</p><p>“Get what?” Jonny asks, turning his head to face him but not looking away from Patrick.</p><p>Sharpy swats him on the back of the head, which, <em> hey, </em> but also makes him irrationally angry. He cools himself immediately, because what the fuck, Sharpy is not a <em> threat. </em>But he’s an alpha, and—</p><p>No. Jonny looks away from both of them and starts doing the warm-up on the board. He has no idea what’s gotten into him. The only thing he can think of is that he woke up feeling weird and it’s affecting his behavior — however the fuck that makes sense. Never in his life has Sharpy ever been a threat to him, and there’s no reason for him to be one now.</p><p>That is, until he hears Megan behind him whisper, “Why is Patrick here if he’s in heat?” And fuck, <em> shit. </em>That’s what it is.</p><p>Jonny feels a flare of jealousy, but then remembers that an alpha rut can only trigger an omega heat if they’re mated, and Patrick isn’t mated, which means that this is Patrick’s regular heat. No one brought it on. There’s no threat. </p><p>“Patrick,” Mrs. Mattentov says quietly, crouching by his desk, “Can you get up?” </p><p>Patrick blinks at her, like he’s not comprehending what she’s saying. But he follows her when she puts gentle hands on his arms and helps him out of his seat, through the classroom and out into the hallway. She’s an omega herself, so she’s one of the better people to help. Some of Jonny’s classmates are whispering to each other, talking about how sweet Patrick smells or that they’d love to “help him out.” Jonny feels a growl starting in the back of his throat for the second time that day, but before he can get it out, Mrs. Mattentov pokes her head through the door and asks for him.</p><p>Jonny goes immediately despite his surprise, and he closes the door with a harder slam than he really meant to, but he doesn’t care. Patrick’s on the phone, probably with his mom, leaned up against the wall and wiping his forehead free of sweat. </p><p>“Patrick’s parents can’t get here to pick him up. He’s asked if you can take him home,” she tells him, “You don’t have to, but his parents have agreed to it. You’d be excused from class until you return.”</p><p>Jonny would say yes even if they expelled him for it. </p><p>It makes sense, though. Jonny’s a beta and one of Patrick’s close friends. It would make sense that he’d ask for Jonny, and that the school and Patrick’s parents would allow it. </p><p>“Of course,” he agrees, and watches as Mrs. Mattentov approaches Patrick to tell him that Jonny’s taking him home.</p><p>“Really?” Patrick asks, eyes wide.</p><p>He stumbles over to Jonny and pretty much face-plants into his chest. Jonny brings his arms up around him, one hand coming up to cradle his head at the base of his skull. Mrs. Mattentov returns to class, and Jonny hustles them into the lobby and through the sign-out process. </p><p>One of the women at the desk is a null, and despite Patrick hurtling headfirst into heat, she tries to make them separate. </p><p>“PDA is not allowed on campus,” she tells them with a bit of a sneer. Jonny will never understand why people who choose to work at schools can be so snobby to students. </p><p>Patrick must not like the tone of voice she uses, directed at Jonny specifically, and he must take it as a threat because his head snaps up from where it was buried in Jonny’s neck and <em> growls </em> at her <em> , </em>low and feral — a warning. </p><p>Jonny looks down at him, surprised, ignoring the offended look the woman gives them. “Hey, easy.”</p><p>Patrick whines and hides his face in Jonny’s chest. Jonny grabs their sign-out slips, then wraps both of his arms around Patrick as he leads them out of the building and to the student parking lot. It’s kind of hard to find his car, because Patrick has taken to mouthing at Jonny’s bare neck, lips sliding across his skin. He drags his teeth over Jonny’s mating gland, probably by accident, but Jonny jolts to a stop and has to keep himself from slamming Patrick into the nearest car and fucking him against the hood.</p><p>Jonny blinks himself out of it. He doesn’t know where the fuck <em> that </em>came from, and he shouldn’t be having those thoughts when his friend has trusted him in the midst of his heat to get him home safely. God, Jonny’s an asshole. </p><p>He finds his car quickly after that, following the faint smell of ice that’s been hanging in his car for the past month. It’s kind of hard, considering Patrick’s scent is spiking into vanilla and cream that settles thick in Jonny’s nose and makes him lightheaded. </p><p>Distantly, Jonny wonders if Patrick’s heat scent smells like strawberry shortcake, and is sad that he will never be able to smell it.</p><p>Jonny wrestles him into the car, which is a difficult task with Patrick bucking around and trying to press himself against Jonny in any way possible. Patrick must like a lot of contact during his heats. </p><p>“Jonny,” he whines, plucking at his clothes. Jonny leans over his body to buckle him up, and then Patrick gasps and shakes apart beneath him.</p><p>The smell of strawberries mixes with vanilla and sugar, clogging up Jonny’s nose and making his eyes cross. And then the smell of Patrick’s come rackets up into the air, and Jonny feels bowled over, has to hold onto the door and the back of the headrest to regather himself. God, if this was what heat smells like to betas, he can only imagine what it smells like to alphas. </p><p>Jonny pulls back and closes the door, and Patrick makes a loud cry of distress from inside the car. It’s an omega noise, one only made in times of weakness or disparity, high in the back of his throat, and it makes Jonny sprint to his side of the car, throw himself inside, and put his hands on Patrick’s face. He’s not sure why he made the noise; maybe because he’s scared, spiraling into heat at school, trapped in Jonny’s car, instead of in his room where he’s comfortable and prepared. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Jonny promises, “I’ll get you home.”</p><p>He takes his hands away to move the gearshift and back out of the parking lot, but when Patrick makes another tiny, hurt noise, Jonny puts one hand back on his cheek and keeps it there for the rest of the drive. </p><p>Patrick’s mother is just arriving home when Jonny pulls into the driveway. Jonny gets out of the car, ignoring the pained cries Patrick makes when he’s no longer within an arm’s distance, but he makes up for it when he circles the car and opens the door on Patrick’s side and slips back into his line of sight. </p><p>Patrick stumbles on his feet when he gets out, but Jonny catches him easily and scoops him up bridal style without a struggle. Patrick comes in his pants.</p><p>“You’re hopeless,” Jonny says to him fondly, and follows Patrick’s mother as she unlocks the door and tells him where to go. He makes it to Patrick’s room despite the omega in his arms clawing at Jonny’s shirt, trying to rip it off, and deposits Patrick gently onto his bed. He helps Patrick take off his clothes, because Patrick will rip them without assistance, but leaves his underwear on for modesty. </p><p>“Alpha,” Patrick whines, writhing on his bed. He reaches out for Jonny, trying to shove his face into his neck. He’s so sweet, squirming desperately under Jonny and calling him alpha. God, if things were different. If Jonny <em> were </em> an alpha—</p><p>“I’m not,” Jonny says, and it hurts to say, but he has to, “I’m not an alpha. I’m not your alpha.”</p><p>Patrick’s scent spikes in distress. “Not my alpha?”</p><p>“No, Pat,” Jonny frowns. Patrick’s face twists, and to Jonny’s horror, he starts to <em> cry. </em></p><p>“Patrick—” Jonny tries helplessly, but Patrick continues to just lay on the bed and hiccup, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto the bedspread. </p><p>“Boys?” Donna calls out and opens the door. Patrick cries out, flinching away as he rolls himself into a ball and sobs into his knees. Jonny makes a sound he’s never made before, so Donna gently takes him by the arm and leads him out of the room.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I don’t—” Jonny sputters, teetering on the verge of hysterics, “He wanted me to— I’m not his alpha.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” she reassures, squeezing his shoulder, “You did good. Thank you for bringing him home safely.”</p><p>Jonny nods, and winces when a sob mixed with a moan slips out from the other side of the door. “I should…”</p><p>Before Donna can say anything, Jonny tears out of there and speeds out of the driveway. His fists clench the steering wheel as he makes his way back to the school. He’s got to get to practice, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to turn around and go to Patrick, bundle him up and wipe away his tears and fuck him until he feels better. He’s supposed to be <em> safe </em> with Jonny, but Jonny made him cry. </p><p>Jonny made him <em> cry. </em></p><p>His heart is in his throat as he parks in the student parking and makes his way into the athletic building. He passes by his teammates in a daze, nodding offhandedly to them as he weighs in and heads to the locker room. There’s not many in there, scattered in the weight rooms and the lobby area, fooling around. He doesn’t realize he’s left his duffel bag in his car until he reaches for it and finds it’s not there.</p><p>“Tazer?” Someone says, worry in their voice. A hand comes down to grip his fists, putting enough pressure so that they stop trembling. When Jonny glances up, he sees Sharpy knelt on a knee in front of him. “Hey, what’s the matter?”</p><p>Jonny makes a noise, and suddenly Sharpy has him wrapped up against his chest, holding him tight. Jonny gasps for air, shaking hard enough that he finds himself sliding down a little on the bench. </p><p>“What’s the matter?” Sharpy repeats, “Is it Patrick? He went into heat, right?”</p><p>Jonny squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose. “I made him cry.” He whimpers, hiding his face. </p><p>He smells Seabs as he crouches down to be eye-level with him. “Oh?”</p><p>“I— he wanted me to help,” Jonny tells them with a shaky voice, “But he never said— before. I’m not his alpha, I couldn’t— and then he cried—”</p><p>Sharpy squeezes him tightly, shushing him in hopes of stopping his impending freak attack. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know if that’s what he really wanted.”</p><p>Jonny has a heartbeat in his head. “I’m not… I’m not his alpha.” He says, desperate for them to understand. He didn’t mean to make Patrick cry. He <em> didn’t. </em></p><p>“You’re right,” Sharpy says, gentle, “You’re not his alpha. You didn’t take advantage. That was <em> good </em>of you, Jonny. You didn’t hurt him.”</p><p>“But I <em> did,” </em>Jonny whimpers, “I said I couldn’t, and he cried.”</p><p>In front of him, Seabs grips tight at Jonny’s hands. “It’s better to make him cry because you didn’t take advantage than to make him cry because you did. He’s gonna be okay, Tazer. You didn’t hurt him, and you did good by getting him home and somewhere safe.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Sharpy agrees, “If you hadn’t have brought him home, some other alpha could have attacked him. You got him home safe.”</p><p>Safe. Patrick’s always safe around Jonny. Jonny would never let someone hurt him. </p><p>“I did good?” Jonny asks, voice timid.</p><p>Seabs grins at him, a genuine, proud smile that makes the ball of despair behind Jonny’s ribs ease a little. “Yeah, man, you did so good.”</p><p>Jonny exhales and lets go, falling limp against Sharpy in exhaustion. He feels drained, and deep down he still knows that he upset Patrick, but he ignores it in favor of closing his eyes and preparing for the migraine that will inevitably come within the hour. He’s got a cramp in his calf. </p><p>Somehow, Jonny’s panic is enough for Coach to let Sharpy take Jonny home. He tries his best to help, using any strength he has left to try to walk or to take less weight off of Sharpy, who is carrying him along with an arm around his waist. Sharpy uses his key to get into Jonny’s house, drag him to his room, and drop him on the bed. </p><p>“You’re gonna be okay,” Sharpy promises, and is the last thing Jonny sees before falling into a fitful sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Jonny is THICK and not in the normal way</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny doesn’t see Patrick for three days as he rides out his heat. </p><p>Finally, on Thursday, he catches the sweet smell of strawberries before Patrick even walks into the room. He relaxes immediately, and kicks Sharpy out of his seat so that Patrick can sit by him. Sharpy grumbles something about being “totally whipped” but slides into the seat behind him.</p><p>When Patrick comes in, he looks normal, as if that night where he cried under Jonny’s hands didn’t happen. He might not even <em> remember. </em>Jonny’s not going to bring it up, that’s for sure.</p><p>He waves at Patrick to get his attention and motions to the seat beside him. Patrick grins and takes the seat. “Thanks.” </p><p>He takes a breath to say something else, but the bell rings and Mrs. Mattentov starts the class. It’s Jonny’s luck that the only assignment today is review problems for their test tomorrow — eugh. </p><p>He’s halfway through number three when Patrick leans over and whispers, “Sharpy told me that you brought me home. I appreciate it.”</p><p>Jonny tenses a little. He’s not sure what else Sharpy told him, if any. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself, so he sticks with a simple, “No problem, I was happy to help.”</p><p>That seems to be the end of the conversation, but Patrick is already on number ten. He glances at his paper, trying to get a good look in, but Patrick catches him and puts an arm between them, blocking Jonny’s line of sight. “Cheater.” He accuses with no heat behind it.</p><p>Jonny just grins, pencil between his teeth. Everything is okay. </p><p>——</p><p>Patrick’s 18th birthday falls on a Friday. He’s throwing a little party on Saturday with his family and some of his friends, but Jonny comes in Friday morning with a bright red balloon full of helium and goes straight for Patrick.</p><p>Patrick is at his locker talking to Shawzy and Artemi, but he turns when he hears Jonny approaching and smiles, eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly in confusion. Jonny grins, says, “Happy birthday,” then turns him around using the top strap of his backpack and ties the balloon to the strap. </p><p>Patrick spins, then spins again, trying to see the balloon. “Did you just tie a balloon to my backpack?”</p><p>“It has my number on it,” Jonny says smugly, because he’s an egotistical asshole; and sure enough, when Patrick grabs the string of the balloon and drags it down to look at it, there’s a big 19 and a smaller <em> TOEWS </em> written on top of it.</p><p>“You marked me,” huffs Patrick, but Jonny can tell he's happy, so he doesn’t feel too bad about the way his dick twitches. </p><p>Patrick shuts his locker, and Jonny swings an arm around his shoulders, leads him away to his first period class. He’s pleasantly surprised when Patrick curls himself into his side, snugged up against him as they walk. Jonny can feel himself preening but he can’t find it in him to care. </p><p>As they approach Patrick’s class, Jonny leans down and whispers, “Go up to Ms. Kathy behind the dessert cart at lunch today. Tell her Jonny sent you.” </p><p>They stop in front of his classroom, so Jonny slides his arm off his shoulders and stands in front of him. Patrick quirks an eyebrow, but Jonny just salutes him and walks off.</p><p>——</p><p>“You got me a <em> birthday brownie?” </em>Patrick screeches when he gets into Jonny’s car after school. </p><p>Jonny had not gotten him a birthday brownie. Jonny had saved up thirty dollars and asked Ms. Kathy — who runs the dessert carts at lunch — to make Patrick a special treat for his birthday. Ms. Kathy was the one who decided to make the treat a brownie. It even had sprinkles in it. </p><p>Jonny shrugs, pleased when he notices that his balloon is still attached to Patrick’s bag, though it’s lost about half its helium and is only floating as high as Patrick’s chest when sitting down. “Happy birthday.”</p><p>Patrick shakes his head, but he looks fond, so Jonny takes it as a win. Patrick loves sweets. </p><p>He kills time at pregame practice. He’s a little sad that Patrick won’t be at the game tonight. He’s celebrating with his family at home, away from Jonny and the school. Jonny knows he’ll be able to see Patrick tomorrow for his party, knows that he’ll be the first one there because he wants to help the Kane’s set up shop. (Plus, extra time to spend with Patrick alone.)</p><p>They win the game by the skin of their teeth. Jonny’s freshly showered and gathering his things in his duffel bag when his phone rings. It’s Patrick’s ringtone — Lady Marmalade, because that’s what Patrick forced him to use — and the guys still scattered in the locker room ‘ooo’ and ‘aww’ at him like the assholes they are. </p><p>“Fuck off, all of you,” Jonny huffs as he slides his thumb across the screen and connects the call, “Hey Pat.”</p><p>
  <em> “Where are you right now?” </em>
</p><p>Jonny slings his duffel over his shoulders and flips off the guys making kissy faces at him as he heads out of the locker room. “Just about to leave the school, why?” He breaks through the doors into the chill of the outside air, where some players are still lingering with their friends or girlfriends. “Are you here?”</p><p><em> “No,” </em> Patrick says, sounding a little remorseful, <em> “I’m at home. But you should come over:” </em></p><p>Jonny waves to Saader and Crow who are piling into Duncs’ Ford F-150. “You want me to come over?”</p><p>There’s a scuffle on the other line, a quiet, <em> get out of my room, Jessica, </em> and the slam of a door closing. <em> “Yeah. My mom said it was okay. You could sleepover and be here for the party tomorrow.”  </em></p><p>Something warm blooms in Jonny’s chest at the words. Patrick wants him there. He wants Jonny to spend the night with him, be there with him. He tosses his duffel in his trunk, then checks the time on the clock in his car. It’s just past eleven. “Let me ask Maman, and I’ll get back to you.”</p><p><em> “Okay,” </em>Patrick says, but sounds a little put out at the implication that Jonny might not be able to come over. He can already see the pout on his face. </p><p>He hangs up and makes quick work of getting back to his house. Jonny knows from experience that his mother is more likely to agree to something if it’s asked in person rather than over the phone. He hurries inside, dragging his bag behind him, and finds his mother at the kitchen table waiting for him like she always is, with a newspaper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. </p><p>She smiles at him when he enters. “How was the game, <em> cher?” </em></p><p>“We won,” says Jonny, “Can I spend the night at Patrick’s?”</p><p>His mother looks up at him in surprise, partially by the urgency in Jonny’s tone of voice. “Pardon?”</p><p>Jonny feels his ears get a little hot. His mother is completely aware of how gone Jonny is for Patrick. He hopes that she trusts him enough not to take advantage. “Patrick asked me to spend the night, since it’s his birthday, and so I’d be there tomorrow morining to help them set everything up.”</p><p>It’s a bit of a stretch — Jonny knows that Patrick and his family will try to stop him from helping, because he’s a “guest,” but what they won’t know until the moment of won’t hurt them. But, his mother gives him a small smile and tells him, “Alright. Remember to grab your toothbrush!”</p><p>Jonny whoops, fist pumping in the air. He kisses her on the cheek in thanks and hurries up to his room. He tosses his football duffel to the side and grabs a loose one from his closet, filling it with a change of clothes for tomorrow, his toothbrush and toothpaste, phone charger, and Patrick’s gifts — plural, because his birthday is the perfect excuse to spoil him. </p><p>He decides to change into his pajamas before he leaves. He’s not sure which pair to wear, considering he hardly ever wears any. He usually only sleeps in his underwear, but he doesn’t think that will be appropriate. Even if Patrick was okay with it, he’ll still be in a house with Patrick’s younger sisters and his mother. </p><p>Yeah, he’s not risking that. </p><p>He goes for plaid pajama pants and an old long-sleeved Jets shirt, worn soft from all the uses. Jonny wonders what Patrick wears to bed. Maybe he sleeps in his underwear like Jonny. Maybe he sleeps <em> naked.  </em></p><p>Jonny shakes himself out of his thoughts — because that’s not what’s happening tonight — then grabs his bag. He says goodnight to David and goodbye to his parents before making his way to Patrick’s. He should probably text him, but a little surprise never hurt anyone. At least, Jonny doesn’t think so. </p><p>He’s not sure if he should knock or ring the doorbell. His sisters are probably asleep, or at least Jackie, so he takes to knocking a few times and waiting patiently at the door. Eventually, the door swings open to reveal Erica with curlers in her hair. Jonny didn’t know people still use curlers. </p><p>Erica’s confused expression morphs into one of glee, a look that Jonny has seen on Sharpy multiple times. She stands aside to give him some room. “Hey Jonny. Come on in.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he smiles and steps inside. It’s cozy for a two story house, muted colors on the walls with light accents in the furniture.</p><p>“Patrick’s upstairs in his room,” she tells him, “Third door on the right.”</p><p>Jonny greets Mrs. Kane, because he’s not just going to go into Patrick’s room without letting her know he’s here, then jogs up the stairs to get to Patrick. He can smell the strawberries on the fourth step despite the other scents of the people in the house. It’s a little more muddled than usual, mixed in with his sisters’ and his parents’ scents, but it smells good nevertheless. Patrick always smells good. </p><p>He’s barely on the top step when Patrick whips himself around the corner with wide eyes. “You’re here!”</p><p>Jonny’s not sure how he knew considering betas don’t have a scent, but the stairs are creaky when he walks, so Jonny chalks it up to that. He smiles and steps into the hallway of the second floor. “Wanted to surprise you.”</p><p>Patrick socks his hard on the shoulder. “You dick! I thought you weren’t coming. I hadn’t heard anything in like, a half hour.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Jonny grins down at him, “I’m here now.”</p><p>Patrick huffs, but he’s not mad; he smells <em> ecstatic, </em>which sets off a gentle smell of chocolate that Jonny sinks into. Patrick leads him to his room, which is covered in Sabres merch and drawings that look like they were done by five year olds. Patrick notices him looking at all the art along his walls. He slides up against Jonny’s side, pressing his hip against Jonny’s. </p><p>“Most of them are from the kids at the YMCA,” he tells him, “They bring me stuff a lot — drawings, pasta necklaces, stuff like that. The others are from when my sisters were really little. All they ever made me do was play with Barbies and color.”</p><p>Jonny laughs at the image of fifteen year old Patrick playing as Ken while his little sisters dressed up their Barbie dolls. Patrick elbows him in the side. “Don’t laugh at my awesome big brother skills.”</p><p>Jonny drops his duffel and puts his hands in the air in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right; I could never even compete.”</p><p>Patrick tilts his chin up in victory, then flounces to the tv. He crouches down and opens the doors to the tv cabinet that reveal a trove of movies. “We should watch a movie. What are you thinking?” </p><p>Patrick has an extensive DVD collection, in order by genre. Horror, then comedy, then Disney and Pixar, and the small section of romance. When Jonny peers in the back, he can see the very tops of old VHS cases. </p><p>He gets down next to Patrick and starts scanning his options. He’s kind of pressed up against Patrick’s side so that they can both fit enough to see everything. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Patrick that settles him into a calm state of mind. Any nerves that he had before get washed away. This is <em> Patrick. </em> There’s nothing to be nervous about. </p><p>“I think,” Jonny reaches for two DVDs, holding them up for Patrick to see, “Either <em> The Hunger Games </em> or <em> Sharkboy and Lavagirl. </em>Whaddya think?”</p><p>Patrick hums his thought. “Well, <em> Sharkboy and Lavagirl </em> is a cinematic masterpiece, but I think <em> The Hunger Games </em> wins this one.”</p><p>“Good choice,” Jonny agrees and hands him the DVD. </p><p>He plugs his phone in to charge for the night and settles into the bed while Patrick sets up the DVD. Jonny takes the moment to appreciate Patrick’s nightwear: fuzzy white pants with black stars on them that frames his ass nicely, and a black shirt that stretches over Patrick’s muscles when he moves. It’s not tight, but it’s not loose either. </p><p>Patrick presses play and shuts the door, then crawls into the bed beside Jonny. He gets on his knees to reach up to the fan and shut the light off, so that the only light was coming from the dim lamp on his bedside table. They prop up the pillows and get comfortable as the first scenes start to play out. Patrick takes the opportunity as they’re situating themselves to duck under Jonny’s arm and settle his head on his infraspinatus. </p><p>Jonny looks down at him, but Patrick’s eyes are on the television, nervous about the position if the worried spike in his scent has anything to say about it. And well, Jonny’s not about to say no when he’s got Patrick curled up against him, all soft and warm at his side. Jonny tightens his grip and shifts him upwards just a bit, then rests his cheek against Patrick’s head. He feels Patrick relax at Jonny’s acceptance of the position and snuggle in closer.</p><p>It’s kind of overwhelming being so close to Patrick, having him pressed up against him. He can feel his warmth bleeding into Jonny’s body wherever they’re touching. He can smell Patrick’s dander-free shampoo, the remnants of the deodorant he put on that morning. The smell of strawberries is so intense that Jonny feels dizzy with it, high off of the omega in his arms. But at the same time, he’s never felt more relaxed. His limbs feel like jelly, muscles loose, and his eyes are comfortably heavy. Jonny can’t get scent drunk as a beta, but he thinks that if it’s anything like he feels right now, it’s a wonder alphas let their omegas out of their arms. Jonny never wants to let Patrick go.</p><p>Katniss and Peeta have just arrived in blazing fire when Patrick shifts and looks up at Jonny. The dim light from the lamp illuminates his face in a soft glow, blue eyes dark and sparkling. His lips look darker in the dim. “Jonny?”</p><p>Jonny’s eyes dart to his lips, wanting to watch the way they form around his name, before meeting his eyes again. They’re so much closer like this, with Patrick’s hand on his sternum and his head tilted up. Jonny can feel the steady beat of Patrick’s heart against his side. “Yeah?”</p><p>The first brush of their lips is just a graze, chapped skin of Patrick’s lips catching on the scar on Jonny’s. For a moment, they just breathe, caught right there in the moment. Jonny can’t hear anything even though he knows the movie is still playing. </p><p>And then Jonny puts a hand on the side of Patrick’s neck, thumb slotting beneath his jawline, and brings Patrick forward to press their mouths together. Patrick lets out a relieved grunt and works to get the angle right, and then yes, there, they’re kissing. Jonny is kissing Patrick. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>The air gets punched from Jonny’s lungs as he pulls back, only to dive right back in. He moves the hand against Patrick’s neck down to his leg, gripping Patrick’s thigh and hauling it over his own. He takes the arm around Patrick’s shoulders and cradles the back of his head with his hand, keeping him in place. Patrick’s hands slide across Jonny’s torso, one settling on his back, the other reaching down to grab a handful of his ass and squeeze. Jonny grunts and squeezes Patrick’s thigh in retaliation. </p><p>Everything around him melts away, except for Patrick and his body hot against him. God, Patrick’s lips are so soft, practically plush against Jonny’s lips and tongue and teeth. He can feel Patrick grinding minutely against Jonny’s hip, and goddamn if that doesn't get Jonny hot. He’s making these tiny sounds into his mouth, little gasps and whimpers, bitten-off moans that Jonny swallows and replaces with his own. He feels like he’s drowning, sucked deep underwater with Patrick as his lifeline. </p><p>There’s a sound from somewhere in the house. It’s quiet, but it’s enough to bring them both back up. They break apart, still close enough that their panting breaths hit each other’s faces. </p><p>“Happy birthday, Peeks,” Jonny says. </p><p>He’s not sure where to go from here, but luckily, Patrick smiles at him, private and pleased, and rests his head on Jonny’s chest. Jonny struggles to catch his breath, trying to find his brain that got splattered across the wall the moment Patrick’s lips touched his. He’s got a raging hard-on, and so does Patrick, but neither of them act on it. </p><p>Instead, Jonny curls his arms back around him and focuses on the movie. They can talk about this in the morning. On the screen, Katniss ties herself to a tree branch and settles in for the night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>... they KISSED</p><p>Sorry though guys they’re not out of the woods juuuust yet</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They don’t talk about it in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both oversleep and have to run around the Kane household to help set up everything two hours behind schedule. And then people start trickling in, carrying food and presents and balloons, and the conversation gets lost in the chaos. Jonny doesn’t realize they never actually talked about it until he’s helping his Maman with dinner that evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny fully expects to discuss their make-out session on Monday when they see each other again, but Patrick gets into the car that morning and immediately starts talking about the scrapbook that his sisters gave him after everyone had left. Jonny keeps anticipating the talk all day and into the next, but it never comes. He’s not sure what it means, and it hurts a little, but if Patrick doesn’t want to talk about it, Jonny’s not going to make him. The problem is— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, the problem is that when Jonny spaces out during class, he thinks about the kiss. When he gets really lost in it, sometimes he thinks he can even feel them, how soft and wet they were against Jonny’s own. He remembers their tongues bumping against each other, the feel of Patrick’s hands all over his body. When they walk to class together, and Patrick stays close, he can feel the heat of his body that was two times warmer on Friday, pressed against each other and burning like a brand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem is, every time Jonny thinks about it, he pops a boner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s sitting at a table in the far corner of the library during study hall, trying to get his history study guide finished, when the door to the library opens and a class comes wandering in. Jonny’s pencil pauses where he’s written out half of the preamble. When he looks up, he spots Patrick making a beeline for the nonfiction side. Jonny’s up and out of his seat before he’s even thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick spins around when he hears Jonny coming, and his lips turn up in a smile. “Hey! What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Study hall,” Jonny shrugs. Artemi, who was behind Patrick, disappears to go talk to their teacher. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick goes a little grim at that. “Senior project research,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny grimaces. He’s already done his senior project, but it was a pain in the ass. They were forced to do research on a controversial topic, write a report about it, then make a slideshow and present it to the class. It was, like, half of their grade. Jonny’s so glad he’s done with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he nods to Patrick, who probably needs moral support, and asks, “Do you know what topic you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny rests an arm on Patrick’s head as they scope out the books. Patrick doesn’t flinch. “I was planning on something about politics,” he tells Jonny, “but I think I might go for something about omega rights and restrictions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny nods and starts scanning the shelves to see if he can find anything to help Patrick out. Books disappear like nobody’s business during the month of senior projects. Spot a book, blink, and it’s gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s unaware that anything is wrong until he hears Patrick take a sharp breath beside him, his scent blending into worry and… something else that Jonny can’t place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” He asks, turning to him empty-handed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick looks nervous. “Um—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Artemi is pushing through the throngs of people in line to check out their books and over to him and Patrick. He frantically grabs Patrick’s hands, which Patrick holds onto immediately, looking feverish and breathing fast. “Pat, hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny raises his eyebrows. “Hurts? Where does it hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemi blinks up at Jonny, like his head is clearing through the fog. Patrick’s scent spikes in distress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s alarming, and it catches Jonny’s attention, but his focus is brought back to Artemi when he reaches a hand out to Jonny and says, “Everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny frowns. Aches and pains can be a symptom of the flu, so he puts his hand over Artemi’s forehead to feel for a fever. He’s burning up, and Artemi leans into his touch a little, but then Patrick’s hand shoots out and rips his hand away with a harsh, “Don’t touch him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Startled, Jonny looks over to him. Patrick is red and blushing, embarrassed, but he looks a little angry too. Shrinking into himself, he adds, “It, uh, it might make it worse, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make what worse?” Jonny asks, just as Artemi’s knees buckle. Jonny catches him in his arms to keep him from hitting the ground. The little blond is shaking, tears welling up in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then — and then Patrick </span>
  <em>
    <span>growls.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s the same sound that he made when he was in heat and the desk lady was rude to them. It shocks Jonny still for a minute, even with Artemi trying to hide in his chest. Patrick looks partially surprised too, like he didn’t mean for that to come out, and a little bit guilty, but Jonny doesn’t have time to unpack all of that right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell rings overhead, signaling the end of class. Artemi flinches at the sound, startled, and is crying before he can stop himself. He breaks off into a string of Russian that Jonny can't understand, but he looks scared and afraid, and it hurts Jonny’s heart to see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” He repeats, looking to Patrick for guidance. They’re both omegas. Patrick should be able to tell what’s wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick stares at the two of them as Jonny helps Artemi back onto his feet. “He’s in heat,” he says, calm, but his scent hasn’t settled. It’s still jagged with spice and stickiness, a combination Jonny doesn’t like at all. He wrinkles his nose a little at it but tries his best to ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat makes sense — the fever, the pain, the fact that Jonny can’t smell it. He got Patrick home with minimal problems, so he should be able to get Artemi safely to the nurse and still make it to class with enough time to take his test. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he nods, “You head to class. I’m gonna get Artemi to the nurse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s face twists, but it smooths out into a blank state in a blink. His scent, though, it’s still sharp and brewing on the edge of something that Jonny still can’t make out. Whatever it is, Jonny hates it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nods at him anyway, pauses, then hurries out of the library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>— — —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny doesn’t hear from Patrick for the rest of the day. No texts, no walking the halls together. Zip. He’s been waiting by the doors to the parking lot for ten minutes and Patrick still hasn’t shown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s starting to think that Patrick went home early to check on Artemi, when the blond comes walking into the room with Sharpy at his side. Patrick meets his eyes, and a look of surprise washes over his face. They’re close enough to Jonny for him to hear Sharpy tell Patrick, “Told you,” then nudge his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny feels suddenly irrationally jealous that Patrick and Sharpy have been hanging out, but he cools it quickly. Patrick is allowed to have alpha friends if he wants. Besides, Sharpy’s too obsessed with Abby to go for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sharpy pats Jonny on the shoulder as he heads out the doors, but Patrick comes to a stop in front of him with surprise still covering his face. “You’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, Jonny furrows his eyebrows and pockets his phone. “Of course I’m still here. Why wouldn’t I be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s staring at him like he’s grown three heads. Jonny subconsciously pats at his hair to make sure he isn’t looking like an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Artemi is in heat,” replies Patrick, slowly, “He, like, fell into your arms.” His scent has dulled from earlier, but it’s lost all the sweetness, instead replaced by a kind of burning smell. He looks upset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny gives him a bewildered look. “Because he collapsed? He could have hit his head if I hadn't grabbed him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Patrick is still, for some reason, in disbelief. Jonny frowns. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shakes his head and runs his hands over his face. His scent sours out, so Jonny hurriedly wraps his arms around him and drags him close, pressing Patrick’s face to his chest. Patrick takes a deep breath and fists the back of Jonny’s shirt, sinking into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’s </span>
  <span>upset because he thinks Jonny left him, so he adds, “I went right back to class after I dropped him with the nurse. They called his parents and his mom picked him up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick breathes out, slow and shaky. “Oh.” He says, muffled by Jonny’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jonny rolls his eyes, fond, and pulls back, “We good now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shyly, Patrick nods, and his scent slowly evens back out into the sweet smell of strawberries. “We’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Jonny says, then holds the door open for Patrick like always as they walk out into the student parking lot, “Hey, what was that growling about, anyway? It came out of nowhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick ducks his head, embarrassment radiating off of him in waves. He scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly. “It, uh…” he stutters, cheeks pink, “I thought that you might, well.” He looks down at his feet. “He was in heat, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stop outside Jonny’s car and start loading their bags into his backseat. “So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick scoffs at that, which is strange. “What do you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>so?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny slides into the driver’s seat, shuts the door, and waits until Patrick has done the same to say, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Artemi was in heat. So what? I still don’t understand why you growled at him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick buckles his seatbelt, then looks up at Jonny. His eyes are a little softer, but there’s a hint of sadness in them that makes Jonny’s heart clench painfully in his chest. “He was in </span>
  <em>
    <span>heat,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he repeats, “I thought you might…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What? No, why would I—?” He stares after Patrick in disbelief. “Artemi is great and all, but I’m not going to spend his heat with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s surprising, just a little, at the way his words make Patrick’s shoulders slump in relief. He leans his head back against the headrest of the seat and closes his eyes. He still looks a little tense, though, so he adds, “As if he would want me to spend his heat with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick scoffs again, but it’s lighter this time, less like the world is about to collapse on top of them. “Are you kidding? He was all over you.” He shakes his head. “You totally could have gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The parking lot is emptying out, so Jonny reverses the car and drives into the line waiting to be let out. “Yeah,” he agrees, “but I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of strawberries turns sugary. Patrick turns his head to look at him. “No,” he smiles, “You didn’t.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jonny is dense lmao. He’ll come to his senses eventually. (Get it. Cause, senses. Wolves have senses. Ahaha)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jonny’s lounging on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on Instagram when Patrick calls him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you awake?” He sighs when he answers, because when he looks at the clock, it’s edging on eleven-thirty. Jonny’s an insomniac, everyone knows that, but Patrick usually knocks out around ten at the latest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick completely ignores his question. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing right now?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Is this it? Are they going to have phone sex? They should totally have phone sex. “Just chilling, I guess. You?” Jonny replies. It’s late, but he could probably get it up. He can always get it up for Patrick.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m bored and you’re the only other person I can think of that’s awake right now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Well, that’s fine too. Jonny likes talking to Patrick no matter what they’re doing. “Moron. Go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Rich coming from you, asshole,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patrick sniffs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t, though. I’m so bored I can’t even sleep.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He gasps, then, horrified, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh God. I’m turning into YOU.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” Jonny huffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We should go to Walmart.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Walmart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s shuffling on the other end of the line. He thinks he hears a zipper being pulled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, all the Targets are closed but Walmart is open 24/7.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s jaw is on the floor right now. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nope,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patrick says and pops the ‘p’, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Walmart, let’s go. You’re picking me up in ten.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then, the like goes dead. Jonny stares at his phone in disbelief and wonders what his life has become.</span>
</p><p>He asks himself the question again when he pulls into a parking space at Walmart with Patrick buzzing in the passenger’s seat. He doesn’t even have his car but he’s got his keys anyway, wallet in one pocket and phone in the other. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt, even though it’s like, forty degrees outside. </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Jonny sighs, exasperated. He shuffles around in the floor of his backseat and pulls out a hoodie, then tosses it at Patrick’s face. “Put this on before you freeze to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get out of the car and make the short trek to the doors of the building. There’s hardly anyone inside, just a scatter of workers and people grabbing their groceries that work second shift. The first thing Patrick does is grab a pair of sunglasses off a stand and walk around with them on, even though he can hardly see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to trip and die.” Jonny tells him. Patrick grins at him then walks into a display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They trail through the bedding and decor aisles, smacking each other with throw pillows and pretending loose bed sheets are superhero capes. It’s not until Patrick is walking around to figure out where to go next that Jonny realizes how big his hoodie is on him. The sleeves go down to the bottom of Patrick’s knuckles, hem falling down past the tops of his thighs. He’s absentmindedly chewing on one of the strings as he wanders around aimlessly, ducking into the paint aisle before rounding the other side and making a U-turn away from the fishing section. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God. Jonny loves seeing Patrick in his clothes. And it’s— Patrick isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>tiny.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s got muscle from weightlifting and swimming every day, shoulders wide and thighs powerful, but he looks so </span>
  <em>
    <span>small </span>
  </em>
  <span>in Jonny’s hoodie, like he belongs in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He does, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jonny’s mind supplies as he swings an arm over Patrick’s shoulders and suggests the gardening section. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should buy a succulent,” Patrick tells him, looking at the shelves with tiny plants in even tiner pots.</span>
</p><p>“What are we going to do with a succulent?” Jonny asks, arm still around his shoulders.</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shrugs, looking through all of the plants, “It’ll be our child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny snorts. But he takes a peek at the succulents and picks out one in a marbled pot. “We’ll co-parent. I think his name should be Ben.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nods seriously. “I’ll get my dad to draw up the paperwork.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pass by a display of Sharpies. Jonny discreetly grabs one and draws a face on the pot. Patrick pretends not to notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way to the chip and candy aisle — the bane of Jonny’s existence, because as soon as they set foot inside Patrick is racing down the row to grab as much junk food as he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your teeth are going to rot.” Jonny tells him, taking some of the boxes of candy out of Patrick’s arms and putting them back on the shelves. Patrick goes behind him and takes them all back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I’ll be happy,” says Patrick, sticking his nose up in the air like the brat he is. Jonny wonders how well he would take to getting spanked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, they agree on one bag of chips to share between the two of them. Jonny has to pull Patrick away from grabbing every little thing he wants to buy as they wander through the store, heading to Jonny’s favorite place — produce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you actually going to buy a banana?” Patrick asks as Jonny examines the freshness of the banana stand. “It looks like a yellow penis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny smacks him lightly in the face with a banana. “And now you can say you’ve been hit in the face with a yellow penis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Wow, thanks so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny shrugs and drops the banana in the basket before walking to the clothes, “You’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>They make their way through the clothing aisles, stopping every couple of feet to grab a hanger and show off the look. Patrick grabs a sparkly black dress and drapes it over the front of him, posing like a runaway model. “Do you think this dress makes me look fat?” </p><p>
  <span>He laughs at his own joke and turns to hang the dress back up, and Jonny takes the opportunity to land a good slap to Patrick’s ass. Patrick jumps, nearly falling into the clothing rack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your ass is always fat, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick whips around with wide eyes. He stares at Jonny, then repeatedly smacks at his arm with a gaping mouth, “You dirty little—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny clasps a hand over Patrick’s mouth, effectively shutting him up just as a father and his young daughter walk by on their way to the produce section. He leans down to put his lips to Patrick’s ear, and the smell of strawberries gets sweeter. “A dirty little </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears Patrick make a tiny sound behind his hand that makes Jonny’s dick twitch in his pants. He parts his fingers so that Patrick can speak without it being muffled. Patrick glares up at him, “A dirty little asshole, is what you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny slides his hand across Patrick’s cheek and to the back of his neck, squeezes, and watches Patrick’s eyes flutter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny has absolutely no idea how they got here. They were making fun of clothes and threatening to hit each other with the banana, and now Jonny’s about three inches away from kissing Patrick so hard that his lips bleed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers the first kiss. He remembers how Patrick liked to fight for control, and how pliant under Jonny’s hands he got when Jonny won. When he thinks about it, it’s like he can still feel the press of Patrick’s erection against his hip. He needs that again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never asked,” Patrick whispers, eyes darting from the visible expanse of Jonny’s neck and his lips, like he can’t figure out which one he wants to get his mouth on first.</span>
</p><p>Jonny thinks he should pull away, but he can’t, feet set firmly in place and hand clenched tight on the back of Patrick’s neck. He can feel Patrick’s heartbeat beneath his palm, notices how it gets faster when Jonny meets his eye. “Asked?”</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s eyes are very blue. They’ve got a hint of grey to them, making them a little dull in color, but they’re bright with his personality despite the slightly-muted tones to them. Jonny watches his pupils get bigger when he takes a breath through his nose and catches the arousal in Jonny’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After we kissed,” he finally says, “You never asked me to be your boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny takes his free hand and cups it to Patrick’s cheek. Almost immediately, Patrick moves into it, as if it’s an instinct to get as close to Jonny as possible. Jonny wants to get closer. Their mouths are only centimeters away from each other now. “I wasn’t sure you’d want…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick breathes out, warm air hitting Jonny’s face that smells like his mint toothpaste and the bubblegum he chews. “I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s got to be some kind of rule against making out in the store, but no one intervenes as Jonny tilts Patrick’s head back and uses the grip on the back of his neck to pull him forward, connecting their mouths together. Patrick’s lips are as soft as his hands, softer, and they open up pliant and wet for Jonny when he takes control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny groans softly, the hand on Patrick’s cheek coming to grip him by the waist and drag him closer. Patrick’s hands slide up Jonny’s body and his arms drape over Jonny’s shoulders, and they fit together so nicely that Jonny’s dick presses against Patrick’s abdomen by accident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a shock to them both, and they pull away, leaving some space between them. Patrick nearly topples backwards into the clothing rack. His lips are red and swollen, wet with their combined spit. Jonny really wants to get his mouth back on them, but now is not the time. Patrick deserves to be kissed in a bed, not in the middle of Walmart at one in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick stares at him with big eyes, trying to calm his breathing. “So,” he pants, “You’re my boyfriend now, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny nods dumbly. “Uh huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nods, as well, smoothing out his clothes. “Cool, cool.” Then, he grabs the little basket with their bag of chips, succulent, and singular banana. “You’re paying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gone before Jonny can process what he said. When it clicks, he pats down his pants and curses. He hurries through the clothes and after Patrick’s retreating form. “Give me back my wallet, you prick!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jonny might still be dense but at least they did something about they’re pining ahaha</p><p>Also, I’m thinking of writing this story again in Patrick’s POV as an addition to this ‘verse. Thoughts?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you’ve never been to Cook-Out, you should know that they have such thick milkshakes that they give you a spoon because you physically can’t drink it through a straw without it being halfway melted. It’ll help the middle part of this chapter make a little more sense haha</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Senior night is the one football game that all of the seniors look forward to. They come dressed in black and deck out in paint and crazy accessories to celebrate the final football game of their high school career. It especially important to the senior players who are playing their final game as high schoolers. </p><p>Jonny stands at the front of his team, ready to run onto the field. He’s supposed to say something to the seniors, but there’s still sophomore and junior players here that deserve to hear something encouraging too. They watch him, waiting in anticipation for one of his many inspirational speeches.</p><p>Jonny looks at them all, and can’t think of a thing to say. </p><p>He puts his helmet underneath his armpit and scans the group. There’s Sharpy, right in front of him, grinning like a fool. Seabs is beside him, helmet on and ready to take the field by storm. Crow, at the back, arms around Stromer and Brinksy, and Duncs trying to put his mouthguard on top of Boqer’s head — Boqer, who’s holding onto Dacher, who’s watching Jonny with glossy eyes. </p><p>Them, and the rest of his team. Jonny’s team. </p><p>He looks at them, hands clutching tight to the bars of his helmet. “I—” he says, and can’t say anything more. </p><p>Even if he could say more, Dacher pushes through the group and slams into Jonny, clutching him tight around the torso. Jonny stumbles a little, stunned, but gets it together enough to wrap his arms around the rookie in return. After a moment, Sharpy steps forward and throws his arms around the both of them, landing a few firm pats to the back of Jonny’s shoulder. Then Seabs comes forward, then Stromer, then Crow, and soon the entire team is hanging onto one another in a big dogpile in complete silence. </p><p>They break apart when Coach comes over. There are watery eyes when Jonny pulls back enough to address them officially. He non-discreetly wipes under his eye with his thumb, then clears his throat. “Let’s make it a good one, eh?”</p><p>The team hollers, energized, and with the blow of the whistle, Jonny runs into the field for the last time. </p><p>——</p><p>It’s a bittersweet moment, when the game is done because that’s it; the season’s over. It means there’s only one month left of the semester, and then he’ll only have one semester until he graduates. </p><p>They pull through with a win, so when the horn sounds his team floods the field and tackles them onto the ground. They dogpile on top of one another, screaming and cheering and a few of them crying. </p><p>The locker room is surprisingly cheerful, butt pats and laughs and plans being made across the room. It’s a complete one-eighty from the atmosphere before the game. Jonny watches them with a smile. It’s refreshing. </p><p>They spill out of the athletic building and into the night air. Some of the guys go find their girlfriends, some grab onto one another and herd themselves to the parking lot, moving in packs. </p><p>He only gets a glimpse as a warning before Patrick is leaping into his arms and screaming in his ear. “You did it!”</p><p>Jonny laughs, elated, and crushes Patrick in a death grip. Sharpy has been making out with Abby for the past five minutes, so he’s got every right to lean down and capture Patrick’s lips with his own. The mass groans that start up only spur Jonny on, dipping Patrick overdramatically just to be obnoxious. </p><p>When they separate, Patrick grins up at him and flips off Jonny’s team. He’s got body paint all over his face and legs, and he’s drawn a tiny <em> TOEWS 19 </em>on his cheek in red paint. Fuck, Jonny loves him.</p><p>“The team is going to Cook-Out to celebrate,” he says, staring into Patrick’s eyes, glittering with blue, “Come with us.”</p><p>“Yes,” Patrick says, and goes back in for another obnoxious kiss just to hear the rookie players protest. </p><p>Some of the players don’t have cars, so they pile into each other’s back seats. Stromer tries to go for Jonny’s passenger’s seat, but Sharpy grabs him by the back of his shirt and yanks him away. </p><p>“That,” he tells him, “is Patrick’s spot.”</p><p>At that moment, Patrick passes by them. He turns his head to look back at him, glares at Stromer in warning, then slides into shotgun. Stromer lifts his hands in surrender and follows Brinksy to Seabs’s car. Dacher, Boqer, and Olli squish into the back of Jonny’s car, and they’re off. </p><p>They all pay their own ways — except Patrick, because Jonny just takes the money out of his hand, puts it between his legs, and hands the lady at the window his debit card. He only gives Patrick the money back when they’ve all received their food and are pulling into a parking space. </p><p>He rolls the windows down so that they can talk with the guys in their cars on either side of him. There’s teammates piled in the trunks of the veteran players’ trucks, hollering and failing to drink their milkshakes. </p><p>“What kind of milkshake is so thick you have to eat it with a spoon?” Adam gawks, staring at Kirby devouring his peach milkshake.</p><p>“The good kind,” Patrick yells, raising his spoon in cheers. </p><p>Off in the distance, Jonny hears someone yell, “Increase suckage!”</p><p>The car erupts in laughter. Patrick rests his head on the headrest and swings it over to look at his boyfriend. “I can think of another milkshake you might like.” He leers, waggling his eyebrows. </p><p>Jonny watches him for a long moment. He carefully takes another spoonful of his dairy-free vanilla milkshake and contemplates how to proceed from here. Eventually, he hands his milkshake off to Kirby — who, in turn, looks at him like he’s hung the moon — and says, “Alright, everyone out.”</p><p>There’s a mix of groans and  “ooos” like they’re in the sixth grade, but Jonny doesn’t care. He’s about to get his dick sucked. They can fuck off with their petulant protests. </p><p>“How come Tazer can get some in the Cook-Out parking lot but I can’t even get a text back?” Adam huffs as they stumble out of the car. </p><p>“Get a better ass and maybe you will,” Olli chirps.</p><p>“I always text you back,” says Kirby as he closes the door behind them. </p><p>Patrick turns back to Jonny. “They’re totally fucking.”</p><p>Jonny puts the car in reverse and drives to the back of the restaurant, pulling into a parking spot far away from his teammates. “Who, Boqer and Dacher?”</p><p>Patrick nods, tossing their takeout bags and empty containers in the floor of the back seat. Jonny reaches down to pull the bar on his seat, sending his seat flying backwards. “I don’t think they’re fucking <em> yet, </em>but Dacher is so obviously into Boqer, it’s only a matter of time.”</p><p>“Let’s stop talking about Dacher and Adam,” says Patrick, who then swings a leg over the console and settles on Jonny’s lap. Jonny wants to chirp that Patrick was the one who brought it up in the first place, but he doesn’t get the chance because Patrick leans down and kisses him quiet. </p><p>Patrick’s hands slide up Jonny’s neck to cup his cheeks. When he pulls away, he says, “I’m gonna suck your dick now.”</p><p>Jonny nods dumbly, watches as Patrick sides down his body and onto his knees. It’s an image that will be burned into his brain forever — Patrick on his knees, between Jonny’s legs like he belongs there, with his hands framing his cock and his tongue lapping across the top of his bulge. </p><p>Jonny exhales with a shaky sigh, reaching down to card his hand through Patrick’s curls. Patrick’s fingers deftly unzip Jonny’s zipper and pop the button open. The feather-light touches of Patrick’s hands has Jonny shivering, but eventually Patrick tugs his pants and boxers down to his ankles and frees his cock from its confines. It slaps against his belly with a wet sound, and Patrick doesn’t waste any time in sucking the head into his mouth.</p><p>Jonny has had every fantasy about Patrick’s lips on his cock, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. Patrick’s lips are wet, mouth hot, and he can’t take Jonny all the way in the first go. It socks him low in the gut, the noise Patrick makes when he chokes for the first time. His eyebrows furrow in a determined fashion, and then he grabs Jonny where his mouth can't fit and starts pumping. </p><p>Jonny sighs, dropping his head back on the headrest. He feels his dick slide further down Patrick’s throat, hand working in earnest. He’s so focused, so intent on making Jonny feel good. Jonny’s hips twitch a little. </p><p>He opens his mouth to say something, to beg, to praise him, but all he can manage is a low groan. Patrick glances up at him through his lashes as he sinks down deep, swallowing and forcing his throat to relax. There’s spit sliding down his chin, which shows just how inexperienced Patrick is, but a mouth on your dick is a mouth on your dick, and when that mouth is attached to Patrick — Jonny knows he’s basically fucked forever. Nothing will ever be better than this right here. (Except maybe fucking.)</p><p>Patrick pulls off, only to tongue at Jonny’s balls. He sucks one into his mouth, then the other, and Jonny grabs two fistfuls of Patrick’s hair in desperation. He grits his teeth when Patrick licks a stripe over the seam of his balls, before he gets his mouth back on Jonny’s dick. </p><p>He bucks his hips a little, cautious, and Patrick groans and nods as best he can with a mouthful of cock. Jonny plants his feet and gives another careful thrust in, his dick sinking deeper into the tight wet clutch of Patrick’s throat. It’s hard to keep a rhythm, but Patrick doesn’t seem to mind, even when he chokes and takes sharp breaths. </p><p>He gives Patrick’s hair a sharp tug. “I’m gonna— I’m gonna come.”</p><p>Patrick makes a pleased noise, and the smell of strawberries gets impossibly sweeter. Jonny takes a long, deep breath through his mouth, letting the smell coat his tongue and his throat. He comes when it settles in his nose, shooting into Patrick’s mouth with a strangled groan. </p><p>Jonny’s hand falls away when Patrick pulls off, and he makes a strange face. He opens the console and pulls out a tiny pack of tissues, then spits Jonny’s come into the wad. Jonny gives a tired laugh, and Patrick winces apologetically. </p><p>“Thought it would taste better.”</p><p>Jonny opens his arms, dick soft and pants still around his ankles. Patrick hurriedly yanks his pants and underwear down, then climbs into his lap. Jonny twitches when Patrick’s hard dick comes into contact with his own soft one, but he carefully maneuvers them so that Patrick can rub off against his hip.</p><p>Patrick makes a broken noise at the first thrust, drops his mouth open in a shaky gasp. Jonny tilts his head up to connect their lips in a dirty-wet kiss. </p><p>“Can’t believe—” Patrick whimpers, then goes back in for another kiss. Jonny slides his hands from Patrick’s hips to the backs of his thighs, thin but muscled with hardly any hair — swimmer’s legs — and drags them farther apart, knees caught between Jonny’s thighs and his seat. It gives Patrick better leverage, and his thrusts become faster with his better balance. </p><p>Jonny huffs. He’s got a lapful of Patrick rutting against him; it’s no wonder he’s thickening back up again, eager to get back with the program. “Can’t believe… what?” He gasps when Patrick breaks away from the kiss to get his mouth on his neck and breathe.</p><p>Patrick takes lungfuls of Jonny’s scent, which is odd since the only distinctive smell he has is his body wash and deodorant, which has most likely worn off from the game. But then, Patrick pulls away, looking a little drunk, and leans in to say against Jonny’s lips, “Can’t believe I get to feel you bare.”</p><p>It has a lot more of an effect on Jonny than he expected, because the next thing he knows he’s slotting their dicks together, gripping Patrick’s asscheeks, and thrusting hard against him. Patrick cries out, hands scrabbling for purchase on Jonny’s shoulders. His cock drags against Jonny’s, precome slicking the way, setting a quick and steady rhythm in their eagerness. </p><p>“One day, I’m gonna fuck you,” Jonny groans, watching as Patrick’s eyes roll back into his head, “Gonna give you my cock right where you want it.” He gently prods at Patrick’s hole, feeling it clench against the pressure. He dips a finger inside, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, and Patrick suddenly goes limp and falls against Jonny’s chest in a trembling heap. </p><p>And it’s like— it’s like the floodgates have opened, because slick comes gushing out and onto Jonny’s fingers, trickling down his hand and dripping onto his thighs. The smell rackets up and coats the car in an instant. Jonny’s a little lightheaded from it, dick throbbing, his hindbrain suddenly overwhelmed with the need to pin Patrick to the seats and fuck him.</p><p>Patrick gives a hoarse shout and comes hard between them, staining their shirts all the way up to Jonny’s collarbones. Slick floods onto Jonny’s fingers like Niagara fucking Falls. Jonny can smell the twinge of embarrassment in Patrick’s scent, as if him hiding in Jonny’s neck wasn’t proof enough. </p><p>One of Patrick’s hands slithers in between them and gropes at Jonny’s cock, but just as he’s about to get a rhythm going, the loud, shrieking sound of One Direction startles them apart, and the hand on his cock goes away. </p><p>Jonny pants up at Patrick, who’s chest is heaving and is looking like he’s having a hard time focusing on one thing. </p><p>“Are you gonna get that?”</p><p>“Fuck no,” Patrick mumbles, pressing his forehead to Jonny’s, “I just came my brains out, and that’s Erica’s ringtone.”</p><p>The ringing stops, so Patrick takes the opportunity to grab his phone and look at his messages. He huffs. “They’ve been calling me for the past ten minutes.”</p><p>Jonny smiles wryly. “You must be famous.”</p><p>Patrick snorts, forehead still pressed to Jonny’s as he looks down at his screen and shoots off a text to someone. “We can still finish.”</p><p>Patrick’s phone lights up with a string of incoming texts, this time from the contact labeled <b> <em>MOM </em> </b>in big capital letters. Jonny shakes his head. “I already got off. I can just jerk it when I get home.”</p><p>Patrick pushes his bottom lip out, so Jonny kisses his pout and pats his ass, his one hand still dripping with slick. “Pack it up. I’ll take you home.”</p><p>Patrick sighs and does up his fly, grumbling about annoying little sisters and cockblocking parents as he climbs back into the passenger’s seat. Jonny pulls his pants up with his clean hand, but he pauses as he goes to button up. He really doesn’t want to wipe the slick away, so he makes the decision to button his pants one-handed and drive Patrick home one-handed, his slick-covered hand resting carefully on the armrest of the door. </p><p>The porch light is on when Jonny pulls into Patrick’s driveway, but no one is outside. Patrick leans over the console to give Jonny one last kiss goodnight, then pulls away to murmur, quiet against his lips, “Next time bring condoms.”</p><p>He’s out of the car and up the steps before Jonny can restart his brain. Patrick gives him one final wave before before disappearing into his house. Between the smell of the slick on his hand and the thought of actually getting to fuck Patrick, Jonny’s barely got enough in him to focus on driving.</p><p>He somehow makes it home without crashing. He leaves all of his things in his car, too busy with the need to get inside, get inside, <em> get inside. </em></p><p>He greets his mother, who is waiting for him at the kitchen table as always, then throws, “I’m taking a shower,” over his shoulders as he takes the stairs two at a time. He ignores David’s knowing smirk as he passes by on his way to his room in favor of slamming his door shut and racing to the shower.</p><p>It’s a bit of a struggle to get his clothes off without wiping away the slick on his hand, but he manages, and then steps into the shower and he presses his back against the cool tile of the wall. He’s already got his free hand on his dick. </p><p>He takes a deep breath, willing himself to slow down, to make it last, but it’s all over the moment he brings his slick-covered hand up to cover his face. He spurts hard all over his fist and the shower floor, knees wobbling from the sheer force of it. He leans back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as he heaves for breath. He’s never come so hard in his <em> life, </em> and it’s all because of Patrick’s sweet-smelling slick. </p><p>When he drops his hand, the slick washes off and is pulled down the drain with the shower water and his come. When he looks down at his dick, he notices there’s a lump a little ways up from his base, protruding out from the sides. </p><p>Immediately, he’s hit with a jolt of worry. He’s had a cyst under his arm before, and it hurt like hell when the doctor popped it. Jonny feels himself get a little pale at the thought of the doctor doing that to his dick. </p><p>He washes the rest of him and pointedly ignores the cyst, and wonders why is dick is still at half-mast after five minutes. He finishes up and gets his underwear on, but the whirlwind of emotions that the day has been has him passing out the moment the blankets are over him.</p><p>——</p><p>When he wakes up, the cyst is gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shit’s about to hit the fan</p><p>2 chapters left + an epilogue!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Consider this my offering to the hockey gods for tonight’s game.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Christmas and New Years have come and gone, and there’s exactly four days until the new semester begins. Patrick had gone home to visit some of his family in Buffalo for the holidays, and upon his return early yesterday morning, he has refused to leave Jonny’s house. He’ll probably be there until the first day of the semester. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s parents have long gone to bed, and the two of them have already rubbed one out against each other. They’ve taken to lazily making out while they listen to Christmas movies in the background. Jonny’s on top, bracketing Patrick in place with his arms and his knees. Patrick wiggles happily underneath him, making pretty little omega sounds as Jonny kisses him and runs his hands across his body. They’ve lost their shirts but they’ve kept their pants on, which was especially important to Patrick who was worried about leaking slick everywhere without a couple layers to absorb it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe I get to have you,” Jonny sighs, content, and dips down to lick at Patrick’s neck. He drags the tip of his tongue over Patrick’s mating gland, teasing, and hums when Patrick shivers in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick coos in the back of his throat, feeling a gentle purr work his way through his chest. “Always yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny rolls into his side, drawing Patrick against him and pressing his face into Patrick’s soft curls. “You just— you always seemed like you wanted an alpha.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nuzzles his nose into Jonny’s chest, taking in lungfuls of his airy beta scent and the laundry detergent in his shirt. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny pauses, “But, you still want me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” Patrick says, confused, and sits up a little so he can come face to face with Jonny, “What kind of a question is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he puts it what way, it is kind of dumb. Patrick wouldn’t have agreed to be his boyfriend if he didn’t want him, or wanted some alpha. He smiles and bumps their noses as an apology. “A dumb one; you’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like always,” Patrick grins, and settles back against Jonny’s chest to continue </span>
  <em>
    <span>National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going back to school after the break is bittersweet, because it’s their final semester before they graduate. A huge perk, though, is that Jonny can spend more time with Patrick outside of school now that football season is over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, Jonny has the worst luck and wakes up a week after the new semester begins feeling hot and itchy. He shrugs out of his clothes and stumbles to the shower in a daze, cranking it nice and cold. It seems to work, at least a little, and by the time he gets out and dries off, the heat in his body has dimmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still feels a little itchy, though, and tries to remember if they used new laundry detergent. He’s yanking his pants up over his ass when he spots a hoodie on the floor in the corner of his room. It’s his, but Patrick has been wearing it for the better part of three weeks. He took it to Buffalo with him, and only gave it back when it started to smell more like him than it did of Jonny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hardly smell you on it anymore,” Patrick had said when he’d thrown it at Jonny’s head, pouting, “Fix it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny goes for it immediately, overwhelmed by the urge to keep it close. He draws it off the floor and has to stick his face in it. He can’t help it. It smells so much like Patrick, bright with strawberries and the sharpness of ice. There’s also a faint smell of vanilla seeped deep into the fabric, barely there, but the scent smacks Jonny so hard that his knees buckle</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes down hard, slamming onto his knees, but he ignores the sharp pain that blooms through his bones in favor of stuffing his face even farther into the hoodie. He opens his mouth and pants, needing to get every part of the smell. It’s Patrick’s heat scent, Jonny realizes. Patrick left the hoodie with his heat scent still on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s rock hard in his pants, and he goes to stick a hand down there when his phone chimes. It’s Patrick asking where he is, and when Jonny looks at the clock, finds that it’s ten minutes past when he should have left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny scrambles to pull the hoodie on and step into his shoes, then grabs his bag and his phone and takes off for the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head has mostly cleared by the time Jonny pulls into Patrick’s driveway. There’s a little part of his brain that, when Patrick walks out of his house with his backpack slung over his right shoulder, remembers why Jonny picks him up so early. A makeout session in the back of the parking lot is exactly what he needs right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick gets into the car with a smile, but seconds after he closes it, the smell of strawberries spikes and his face morphs into surprise. “Oh wow, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s confused for all of three seconds before he looks down between his legs where his dick is leaking into his underwear. He’s so very relieved he’s wearing black jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says, pulling out of the neighborhood and onto the highway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick doesn’t seem bothered at all by Jonny’s random bout of horniness. If anything, he smells happy. Eager. Jonny shifts in his seat and tries not to preen about Patrick loving his cock so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worries, babe,” Patrick smiles, settling a hand on Jonny’s thigh. His cock spurts a hard stream of precome into his underwear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He breaks a few traffic laws on the way, but he’s smart enough to slow down as they approach the school so that the recreational officer doesn’t ticket him and prevent him from getting Patrick in his lap. He parks in the very back of the parking lot, away from their nosy friends and the majority of the students who like to park at the front so they don’t have to walk far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his seat back before he can even get the key out of the ignition. He tries, but then he gets a lapful of Patrick and decides to leave the key in there, because he’d much rather have his hands on Patrick’s ass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s lips are plush and perfect, and eats Jonny’s mouth until he’s shaking. “Oh fuck,” he murmurs, dragging Patrick closer into him, rocking against him. A tiny part in the back of his brain lights up when he feels Patrick getting hard against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a loud cheer from somewhere in the parking lot. Jonny goes on alert immediately, head snapping up to find the culprit. He scans through the windshield as Patrick pets his head, and only finds a group of students piling into a gigantic SUV. He only realizes that he’s growling when Patrick dips down to kiss him again, and the growl stops in his throat upon contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick works a hand between them, thumbing open the button and dragging down his zipper. Jonny makes a choked-off garble at the thought of Patrick getting a hand on his bare cock. Patrick feeds his aching dick through the slit in his boxers. He takes a couple tissues inside the console, wads them up, and holds them over the head of Jonny’s dick. Fuck, he’s so good to Jonny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says as much, trying not to buck his hips up into Patrick’s grip, knowing that one good thrust will send Patrick’s head into the ceiling of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick coos at him. “Can’t let you walk into school with come in your underwear, can I?” He murmurs, a teasing little smile on his face, the tip of his tongue poking out just so between his two gap teeth. He’s so perfect, and Jonny shoots into the tissues with a loud gasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick drops the wad and gets a hand on himself inside his sweats, jerking it three times before coming into his hand. He slouches against Jonny, tucking his face into his shoulder. Jonny settles into the warmth, loving the feeling of having Patrick so close. He nuzzles against the skin of Patrick’s neck, rubbing his scent on him wherever he can get it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Patrick pulls back to wipe off his come-covered hand onto the wad of tissues. Jonny doesn’t want to let him up, but a glance at the clock on his radio tells him that it’s almost time for class. He considers going home, but knows that Patrick won’t want to skip just because Jonny’s hornier than usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They clean themselves up and tuck each other away, then head out of the car with their backpacks. Jonny draws Patrick in close right before they start walking, dragging him to his chest so he can wrap his arms around him and take a good whiff of his boyfriend's scent. It’s a mix of the two of them, faint but present, and Jonny rumbles happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you brute,” laughs Patrick, gently swatting at Jonny’s shoulder, “Let’s go before we’re late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny doesn’t want to go to class. He wants to take Patrick home, wrap him up in all of Jonny’s blankets and clothes so that he smells even more like Jonny. He imagines Patrick making them a nest, a safe place for him and Jonny to kiss and cuddle and fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Patrick wants to go to class, and Jonny wants to make Patrick happy. So he lets Patrick pull away, but grabs his hand because that’s non-negotiable. Patrick doesn’t seem to mind and allows Jonny to lead the way as they make the short trek to the doors of the school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny is acutely aware of Patrick all day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s always been able to sense where he is, deep down in the back of his chest. But this is different; it’s almost like Patrick’s heat. He can smell Patrick, and only Patrick, knows where he’s going and where he’s been and if he’s happy or sad or angry. There was a flare of fear for a brief moment in third period, and Jonny was half a second away from leaping up and tearing after him, but then he felt a flood of elation and relief, and— right. There was a test Patrick was getting back that period that he had stressed over for a week. He must have done good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny puffs his chest out a little without fully realizing it, proud of how smart his omega is.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny gets to math class and finds Patrick sitting in his seat, jotting down the warm-up in his notebook. He looks up when Jonny walks in, smiling, and following Jonny with his eyes as he takes his seat behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he greets, “You got your test back, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick beams at him, pleased that Jonny remembered. “97.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he’s so smart. So smart and so good and absolutely, one hundred percent </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonny’s.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He ruffles Patrick’s hair, proud, and tells him, “That’s so great, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels more than sees Patrick melt at the words, and he makes a tiny noise and leans a little into Jonny’s hand. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden, heavy wave of possessiveness floods through Jonny so hard that it nearly takes his breath away. But he can’t do anything about it, because class is starting and Patrick is turning away to check his work on the warmup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny does absolutely nothing the entire class period except stare at Patrick. He doesn’t do the warm-up, doesn’t copy the notes, doesn’t even glance at the worksheet. His eyes stay pinpointed on the back of Patrick’s head, tracks his hand movements and the bounce of his curls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometime during the class, Sharpy bumps him in the leg with his foot. “Smells like rut,” he grins, nudging Jonny in the ribs with his elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ha ha, another alpha joke. Jonny rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond, and keeps his gaze locked on Patrick in front of him for the rest of class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks out of class with Patrick, determined to walk him to class. Patrick sticks by him as they walk, babbling on about the test from earlier. Jonny’s just nodding along, listening to the cadence of his voice and the whistle of the consonants from his little lisp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick abruptly stops talking, drawing Jonny’s attention to him. He’s glaring at someone, and when Jonny looks up to find the person on the other end of the glare, it’s an unfamiliar student that looks a couple years younger than them. Sophomore, probably, who’s walking suspiciously close to Jonny. He gets one whiff of her and realizes that he’s an omega, and— oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps an arm around Patrick’s shoulders, dragging him close, and the sophomore disappears into the crowd. The moment she’s gone, Patrick starts up his story again where he left off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day goes relatively smooth, and all Jonny wants to do is get the day over with and get his hands on Patrick. But then—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny watches by the doors to the school parking lot as Patrick walks in with Artemi— holding his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny feels an irrational surge of anger at the sight. Logically, he knows that Artemi is an omega and brooks no real threat, and that Patrick is dating Jonny and not Artemi, but just the sight of them holding hands has Jonny’s hackles rising so high that he gets a headache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Artemi breaks off halfway through the room to go find someone, but it’s too late. Jonny’s seen it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick’s smiling when he comes to a stop in front of Jonny, but it falters when he sees the blind rage across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” He asks, “What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny turns on his heels and walks out of the building. Patrick goes after him, struggling to keep up with his massive backpack. “Jonny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonnh swings the door open to his car and gets in, chucking his backpack into the backseat. He’s not sure what breaks — his binder, his laptop, maybe a part of the seat — but the crack that follows isn’t enough to distract him. He’s so irrationally </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick climbs into the passenger’s seat, movements cautious. He waits until Jonny has driven out of the school before he tries again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he seethes, eyes locked on the road, “were you holding his hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his peripherals, he sees Patrick scrunch his face up, confused. “Who’s hand?” He asked, then, “Artemi’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny doesn’t reply, but he thinks that the harsh breath through his nose is answer enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my friend,” defends Patrick, “I hold his hand all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny jolts a little at that. What? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonny, it doesn’t mean anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Jonny hisses, “Holding hands doesn’t mean anything? Does it mean nothing when </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>hold hands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something nasty settles into Patrick’s scent. “Of course it does. You're my boyfriend. It’s different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny shakes his head, twitching a little, and the movement jostles his foot to press against the gas a little more. “Do you hold hands with Sharpy? He’s your friend.” He says accusingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t hold hands with Sharpy because he’s an alpha and I know it bothers you,” Patrick snaps, annoyance coloring his voice, “but if I really wanted to, I would, because you don’t own me. If I want to hold hands with my friend, I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that he doesn’t own Patrick. Patrick is his own person who makes his own decisions and can do whatever the fuck he wants to, but it seeing that just made him so mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny huffs, “What, are you going to go around and hold everyone's hand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick looks at him in bewilderment. “What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says it with a sting, and Jonny flinches so hard he almost swerves into the other lane. He doesn’t— he doesn’t want Patrick to be mad at him. He’s just— Patrick is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No one else’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he doesn’t say anything, Patrick crosses his arms and gives him the silent treatment for the rest of the way to the Y. He’s quiet as he gathers up his belongings when Jonny pulls into a parking space. Jonny runs a hand through his hair and finds that the hairs at the base of his neck are damp with sweat. He cranks the A/C full blast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks Patrick is going to leave without saying a word when he gets out of the car and closes the door behind him, but he rounds the front of the car and taps at the driver’s side window. Jonny hurriedly rolls it down, and Patrick sticks his head through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” he finally says, “I think my ma should pick me up after work today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cold terror floods through him. No. No, Jonny’s the one who picks him up and drops him off. That’s Jonny’s job now. Patrick’s mom can do all the mom things for him that she does, but driving him around is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonny’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing. He keeps Patrick safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick must see his inner turmoil, because he reaches out and puts a gentle hand on Jonny’s shoulder. The trembling from under his skin stops when he makes contact. “It’s only for today, okay? We can go back to normal on Monday, but right now I think you need some time to yourself. You’re coming close and it’s messing with your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming close? What’s he coming close to? He wants to come close to Patrick, wants him on his lap with his mouth on his neck. Or his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monday, okay?” Patrick says. “Wait until Monday. Can you do that for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny nods and grips the wheel. He doesn’t want Patrick to leave, but Jonny’s been mean to him, so he needs to do what Patrick says so that he won’t leave forever. So that on Monday he can hug him again and kiss him and everything can go back to normal. He can do that for Pat.</span>
</p><p>“Okay.” He whispers, “I’m— I’m sorry.”</p><p>
  <span>Patrick smiles softly at him. “I know.” He leans over and kisses Jonny on the cheek, and Jonny comes in his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny stares down at his dick and the wet patch spreading across his pants in utter bewilderment, but Patrick doesn’t look surprised. He pats Jonny on the shoulder and walks off with a, “Feel better,” thrown over his shoulder. Jonny feels absolutely gutted. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally, the chapter everyone has been waiting for. Literally everyone. Dumb dumb is not dumb dumb anymore. Now he is just dumb.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I think I’m sick,” Jonny tells his mother when he gets home, “I don’t feel well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother puts a hand on his forehead and gives a surprised curse in French, “Oh, honey, you’re burning up! Bryan, come feel him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father walks over and rests the back of his hand on Jonny’s forehead, and then, more troubled, on his cheek. “Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Jonny asks, “What’s wrong?” God, he’s dying, isn’t he? He’s dying and Patrick is mad at him. Fuck, what his luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother takes his temperature, and it comes back as 42° Celsius. Yeah. He’s definitely dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we need to take you to the ER.” His mother says and hurries out of his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny can feel fire burning at the base of his spine. If he’s dying, he needs to talk to Patrick. He needs to know that Jonny’s sorry for being a possessive prick and also for possibly giving whatever he has to him. Patrick’s working, at a pool, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>children, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so of course he doesn’t answer Jonny’s four hundred texts. That, or he’s ignoring him. Jonny decides to call him.</span>
</p><p>His mother comes back in looking harried, dressed in a coat and galoshes. “Come on, we need to go.”</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he whines, curling into a ball. He needs to talk to Patrick first. He can’t go anywhere without talking to Patrick. “Patrick…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call him later.” His mother huffs, “Your room is a mess. Where are your shoes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jonny?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patrick asks when he picks up. It’s loud in the background, full of screaming kids and the echoes of people talking bouncing off the walls, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought we agreed on Monday. I’m at work—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m dying,” he whimpers, flinching hard when his mother tries to put on his shoes. It’s wrong. He doesn’t want shoes. He doesn’t want anyone touching him. Not unless they’re Patrick. “Fever. 42– uh. I think. I think that’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Almost 108 degrees fahrenheit,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Patrick says, because he’s good with numbers. Jonny’s always loved that about him. His little nerdy jock, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“-onny? Jonny, are you listening?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dying,” Jonny sniffles. He can feel his eyes sting with tears. If he dies, he’ll never see Patrick again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re not dying,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patrick says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, and Jonny winces, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s what happens during a rut. You get really hot. Hotter than normal. It’ll ease up in a few days. However long your rut cycle is, you know this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny blinks. And blinks again. “Rut?” Ruts are for alphas. Jonny is not an alpha.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah Jonny. Rut.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Patrick sighs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look, I gotta go. If you really want, you can call me tomorrow, and—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not an alpha,” Jonny tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick pauses for a moment. He sees his mother stop, too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh, yeah, Jon. You are.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Oh fuck. Patrick thinks— he thinks Jonny’s an alpha. That must be why he wanted to hang out all the time, and why Patrick cried during his heat when Jonny said he couldn’t help him, and why Patrick said he still wanted to date Jonny even though he wanted an alpha. Because he thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonny</span>
  </em>
  <span> is an alpha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no I’m not,” Jonny says, voice turning high pitched and frantic, “I’m a beta. I’ve never had a rut. I don’t have a knot. I can’t smell heats— e-except yours. I could smell yours, but I couldn’t smell Artemi’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? Jonny, yes you could. You had to. It doesn’t make sense.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it does,” Jonny cries, “I’m a beta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How—”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tries to say, but the line cuts out. When Jonny pulls the phone away from his ear, he sees that it’s dead. He hurls it at the wall in a fit of despair. He feels his mother put a hand on his leg, but he jolts and curls in on himself even tighter. He doesn’t want anyone to touch him but Patrick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But a doctor will have to. Because he’s dying. Not just because of the fever, now, but because of a broken heart. Patrick had thought Jonny was an alpha. He won’t want to be Jonny’s boyfriend anymore. They’ll never bond, and they’ll never mate. He sobs before he can stop himself, but knows he has to get up. He has to get to the ER or else he’ll die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gotta—” he mumbles, groaning as he sits up. “—hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I think Patrick may be right.” His mother says, putting her hands on his shoulders to push him back onto his bed despite his protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s wrong,” Jonny sniffles, “I’m a beta. I don’t smell like an alpha. You’ve never said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honey, your father and I are betas,” she tells him calmly, “We wouldn’t be able to tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny rubs his eyes free of tears, but they keep falling anyway. “No, but— scents. Alphas have musky ones. Omegas are fruity. We can </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you smell people’s scents?” She asks, and when Jonny nods, she says, “Betas can't smell scents, darling. If you were a beta, you wouldn’t be able to smell Patrick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny lays there, confused, and passes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of strawberries and ice and dander-free shampoo. The smell of Patrick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny tries to call out for him, but he can’t form words. He can’t get his lips to move, or his body. He feels paralyzed, muscles too weak and body too on fire to move. He makes a weak sound, a desperate cry into the air, and seconds later Patrick is running up the stairs and bursting into Jonny’s room. His scent is muddled with panic and worry, and the fire in Jonny’s belly dims a little when he sees him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God, Jonny,” Patrick breathes and hurries over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Jonny’s arms can work again, and they lift up to reach out for him and circle tightly around him when Patrick falls into his embrace. He gets a lungful of omega — </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>omega — and he uses what little strength he has to drag Patrick off his feet and on top of him, jacket and sneakers and all. He gets his legs around Patrick’s, hooking his ankles together just below Patrick’s knees and locking his hands so that Patrick is practically immobile on top of him. It’s only when he feels the rasp of Patrick’s shirt against his chest does he realize that he’s shirtless. And Patrick is not. Jonny doesn’t like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick shushes him, peppers kisses across Jonny’s face. Jonny rumbles his appreciation. Patrick grinds down on him, and Jonny’s suddenly hyper aware of how hard he is and how good it feels when Patrick slots their dicks together. Patrick just continues to grind, knowing Jonny won’t be letting him up any time soon, rocking and thrusting against Jonny’s aching cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny buries his face in Patrick’s neck, nose dragging across his skin. He finds Patrick’s mating gland, and even his hindbrain knows not to bite, that now is not the time, but that doesn’t stop him from licking at it, quickly devolving into mad lapping when he realizes that the mating gland is where Patrick’s scent radiates from. He can practically taste it, not just on his skin but heavy in the air, a fresh, fertile omega that’s here for Jonny. Only Jonny.</span>
</p><p><span>From above him, Patrick let’s out a quiet, breathy moan when Jonny’s teeth graze the gland, dick swelling up in his track pants. Feeling Patrick getting hard above him, against him, knowing it was because of something Jonny did, has Jonny biting down on Patrick’s shoulder and coming hard in his pants. He jerks, spasming underneath his omega, but Patrick takes it in stride because he’s small but strong,</span> <span>able to keep Jonny from bucking him off and hurting either one of them. Patrick pets at his hair, kissing across his face again as he whispers little nothings until Jonny blinks his eyes open and focuses a little more.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Wha’s happenin’?” He asks, feeling high. Did Patrick come over and smoke up with him? He thought they were fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in rut, Jonny,” Patrick tells him, voice gentle and full of concern, “This is what rut is, because apparently you’ve never had one before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t,” he groans, remembering. His heart clenches a little. Patrick still thinks he’s an alpha. “I’m— beta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Patrick huffs, “All that possessive behavior? Wanting to be the only one to drive me places because you knew you could protect me? Being able to smell me, and sense me? Those are alpha reactions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny shakes his head, and when Patrick wiggles to get free of Jonny’s hold, he tightens his grip then reluctantly lets go. Patrick sits up and settles on Jonny’s hips, shedding his shoes and his jacket. Jonny tracks him with dark eyes as he gets down to nothing at all, and when he gets close enough again, Jonny pounces and grabs him around the waist, dragging him down and pinning him by the shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not— I’m not an alpha,” he says helplessly, but he’s starting to think that maybe he’s wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick gets his hand on Jonny’s pants, unbuckling his belt and working his pants and boxers down his legs. Jonny kicks them to the floor, not wanting any resistance, and he goes to rub against Patrick’s bare thighs when Patrick reaches down and holds Jonny’s cock in his hand, and okay, that works too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see this?” Patrick asks, breaking through the fuzz. When Jonny looks down, he sees that Patrick’s thumb is resting on top of the cyst  that’s appeared again, but apparently it’s not a cyst, because Patrick tells him, “This is your knot. Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>alpha knot. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Betas don’t have these.” He rubs at it a little, not a lot of pressure, but it lights Jonny on fire and he growls, loud, thrusting into Patrick’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an alpha,” Patrick states, sure and confident, and it wasn’t until that very moment that Jonny really believed him, “I could tell from the moment you pulled over to help me and my dumb car, even though you’d never had a rut and you’d never popped a knot. I’d never smelled an alpha with a scent as strong as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny is an alpha. He has a knot, and he’s in rut, and Patrick is his. Patrick is his no matter what dynamic Jonny is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick snags Jonny by the ears and drags him down to kiss him, deep and messy and dirty, grinding his cock upwards to rub against Jonny’s and his growing knot. When Patrick pulls away, it’s to stare into Jonny’s big brown shark eyes and position the head of his cock at his wet, sopping hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are an alpha,” he repeats, “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>alpha.” And Jonny slams home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s had sex before. He lost his virginity when he was sixteen to Maggie Lou Davis, in the back of his car in the back parking lot of the park just down the road from the high school. He’s had blowjobs before from numerous people, and they’ve felt good, because sex is sex and an orgasm is an orgasm, no matter who gives it to you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But nothing could prepare him for how good Patrick feels when he pushes inside for the first time. He’s wet with slick that coats his thighs and tight, so tight, his perfect hole clinging greedily to Jonny’s cock as he pulls out, opening wide when he slams back in. His knot bumps against his slippery rim, getting it sticky and creating tiny strings of slick that pull thin every time his growing knot makes contact with Patrick’s ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick, who’s so good, legs split over Jonny’s powerful thighs, keening and whimpering and letting out tiny omega noises that make Jonny want to cry. His omega is so good to him, and he says as much, growling out the words into Patrick’s ear and watching as he arches and moans beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny can feel his orgasm tugging low in his belly, but he needs Patrick to come first. He needs to know he’s made his omega come. Patrick opens up beautifully for him, taking Jonny’s cock in stride. He’s so wet, dripping down his skin and onto the sheets. Jonny can smell a puddle of his slick right in between them, and Jonny preens at the fact that he’s made his omega so wet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick moans high and breathy beneath him. His thighs jiggle every time Jonny’s hips make contact with his ass, titled up and held open by Jonny’s cock. Patrick cries out when Jonny hits something good, but even without the verbal reaction, Jonny knows where to go. He can sense it, a little urge in the back of his mind that knows how to bring his omega to pleasure in the best way possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny looks down between them. He watches his knot swell, getting bigger and bigger the closer he gets to coming, and then on a sudden brutal thrust the knot pops in, past Patrick’s rim and into his hole, and Patrick spurts hot between them with a hoarse cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonny’s shaking. His knot is </span>
  <em>
    <span>in. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His knot is inside of Patrick and he can hardly move, can only grind in and in and </span>
  <em>
    <span>in.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He makes a noise of distress, wanting to fuck more, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. Patrick, still panting and lax underneath him, clenches his hole tighter and sighs a happy, content, “Alpha,” and Jonny comes so hard it knocks him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapses on top of Patrick, heaving, feeling his knot pulse between his legs and come thick and heavy, deep inside of Patrick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lie there, panting like dogs. Even with Jonny’s knot still locked inside of him, Patrick shifts so that he can wrap his legs around Jonny’s waist and roll them carefully onto their sides. Jonny snuffs like a wild animal and sticks his face in Patrick’s neck again, taking deep lungfuls of his scent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the happiness wafting off of him, and it makes Jonny rumble, start kissing and sniffing and biting all over Patrick’s body. He knows Patrick’s probably a little uncomfortable with the knot pulling at his rim, and it’s Jonny’s job to make him feel better after being so good. Patrick’s eyes flutter closed as Jonny drags his nose up his neck and nuzzles. He whuffles, pleased, as Patrick starts to scratch his nails through Jonny’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their little bubble is broken when someone opens the bedroom door. It’s a beta scent — David — but Jonny’s head shoots up anyway. He growls a low, feral warning, and tightens his hold on Patrick. His knot spurts out another load of come, as if to remind everyone that he’s claimed Patrick. Patrick is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>David raises his hands and tips his head back in a sign of submission and sets something on the desk in the far corner. It raises Jonny’s hackles, but when he takes a sniff to figure out what it is, he finds its only grilled chicken for them to eat. David slips out without a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a brute.” Patrick sighs, but he doesn’t seem annoyed, so Jonny snuffles info Patrick’s throat and continues his licking. After a few minutes, his knot deflates and his dick slips out of Patrick’s puffy hole. A trail of come and slick follows, spilling out his hole and dripping onto the sheets between his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment passes and Patrick makes a move to get up. Immediately, Jonny sinks his teeth into Patrick’s neck and stays there, keeping him in place. Patrick huffs out a laugh, “You need to eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eat. Jonny can eat. Jonny knows exactly what he wants to eat. He lets go of Patrick’s neck, and Patrick must think that’s his permission to move because he goes to get up again, but Jonny grabs at him and pulls his ass onto his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonny,” Patrick hums, shifting so he’s straddling Jonny’s face. He reaches down to cup Jonny’s cheek. “You need to eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A splash of slick falls onto Jonny’s lips. “Gonna eat.” He mumbles, and dives in. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come talk to me on tumblr! @ windsthatwhisper!</p><p>Epilogue is next :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the finale!! Thank you guys for encouraging me to finish a chapter story for once haha</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny comes to with a hand gently rubbing over his belly. He’s sweaty, but there’s a cool pillow under his neck, and the smell of strawberries feels seated deep into his bones. It’s everywhere, thick and saturated in the air, mixed with the underlying musk of cedar wood and caramel. </p><p>Jonny would get mad, because that’s an <em> alpha’s </em> scent, there’s an alpha around Patrick that’s <em> not him, </em> but then he remembers oh, it <em> is </em> him. That’s his scent. He’s an alpha.</p><p>He shifts, trying to nuzzle closer to Patrick, get more of his scent, get to his neck, but Patrick moves away a little and cups Jonny’s face in his hands. Jonny sighs, melting into his touch. He can feel the low thrum of the fire in his dick, in his stomach, wanting to take, take Patrick, take him <em> now. </em>But Patrick looks worried, and that just won’t do, so he tries to ignore the blood pulsing to his dick in favor of blinking up sleepily up Patrick and offering him his laziest smile.</p><p>“Welcome back to the living,” Patrick says, giving him a tiny smile. He caresses the skin beneath Jonny’s eye, “You scared the hell out of everyone.”</p><p>Jonny shrinks in on himself, feeling guilty, but Patrick peppers kisses all over his face to get him to liven back up. “Hey, no, don’t feel bad. Your parents didn’t know you were an alpha. They couldn’t smell it like I could, because they’re betas.”</p><p>Jonny rolls them so that Patrick is settled on his hips. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s waist with his hardening dick nestled in the crack of Patrick’s ass, enjoying the feel of having his omega on top of him. And — they’re not mated; Patrick’s not <em> his </em> omega, but, he’s his. Patrick is his, and until the day Patrick decides that he doesn’t want Jonny anymore, he will remain his. </p><p>“Need some more?” Patrick asks, voice soft. </p><p>They’d been fucking for the past day and a half, only stopping for Patrick to shove food in his face or to sleep. Jonny can still taste Patrick’s slick on his mouth, in his soft palate, from when he ate Patrick out in a desperate haze to suffocate himself in it. </p><p>He presses his tip against Patrick’s swollen rim, but Patrick doesn’t seem in pain, eyes falling shut against the pressure. He slides in to the root, dragging Patrick down onto his hips until they’re flush against each other. Jonny sighs his relief, welcoming the slick heat around his cock.</p><p>“You really didn’t know that you were an alpha?” Patrick asks, scratching his nails through Jonny’s scalp. Jonny rumbles happily, closing his eyes against Patrick’s hand. </p><p>“Nghh,” he confirms, sticking his nose in Patrick’s palm as he rocks his hips up, “Couldn’t smell— only scents. Artemi had a heat, and-and I couldn’t smell it. No pheromones. Patrick—”</p><p>“Shh, it’s okay,” Patrick coos, running his hands over Jonny’s face and through his hair, “You didn’t do anything wrong. But— Jonny, you didn’t know that betas can't smell scents? The fact that you could smell dynamics means that you’re not a beta.”</p><p>Jonny exhales against Patrick’s skin. He can still smell their combined sweat and come from before which means the sheets haven’t been changed yet. It’s a mixture of both of them, and Jonny wants to wrap Patrick up and roll them around in it so that Patrick will smell like <em> them </em>for a long, long time. </p><p>He thrusts up, setting a lazy rhythm. He feels on the brink of resurfacing, the heat and the pain in his spine ebbing as the seconds tick by. The fog in his head is thinning, and he can see how tired Patrick is but how good he looks, glowing and happy now that Jonny’s marked him up. </p><p>Patrick comes first, because Jonny’s hindbrain — even in the haze of rut — has to make his omega come before he does. Jonny gets his knot snugged up in there and pours all of the come that’s left in him into his hole. </p><p>The orgasm breaks his rut. It’s like swimming back to the surface and taking that first gasp of air. Patrick looks royally fucked out on top of him, and when he realizes that the rut is over, he grins tiredly down at him and says, “Congrats on surviving your first rut.”</p><p>Jonny maneuvers them onto their sides so that Patrick can lay down comfortably. Patrick sighs and snuggles close, rocking down on the knot in his ass. Jonny shudders, hands squeezing the flesh of Patrick’s ass. </p><p>His knot deflates after a half hour. Patrick had grabbed them a towel the night before, so when he slips out, he cleans up everything that spills out so that Patrick isn’t lying in a wet spot. </p><p>“Best omega,” Jonny praises, watching as Patrick preens, <em> “My </em> omega. I can’t believe I can have you. I can’t believe I’m an <em> alpha. </em> It’s just— impossible. I didn’t have a rut when I presented.”</p><p>“I talked to my ma about that, while you were passed out,” says Patrick as he traces Jonny’s pecs, “She said that some people are late bloomers.”</p><p>“Five years?” Jonny grumbles, embarrassed. Patrick kisses his cheek reassuringly. </p><p>“No, but you presented late, so you weren’t looking for the signs when they came. You probably thought it was just beta dynamics.”</p><p>Jonny sighs and scratches his nails through Patrick’s curls. “Okay, but, that still doesn’t explain why it took my five years to have my first rut.”</p><p>Patrick’s cheeks go bright red. Jonny can smell the embarrassment wafting off of him. “My ma said that sometimes rut and heat can be delayed even longer if you bond around the time you present.”</p><p>“Bond?” Jonny asks, “You and I only met in September.” </p><p>Patrick sits up and stares for a long, long moment. He meets Jonny’s eyes, dark and unyielding. “No, we didn’t,” he says, “I played against the Junior Jets one year, seven months after you <em> should </em> have presented, but didn’t. A week after I presented.”</p><p>Jonny sits up, too. “Hang on. Are you telling me that you and I played against each other <em> once </em> when we were thirteen and our bodies decided they wanted to <em> bond? </em> At thirteen?”</p><p>“You bet, baby,” Patrick grins, shooting him the finger guns, “We are so winning that ‘best couple’ superlative in the yearbook.” </p><p>Jonny thunks him on the head. Priorities. “That still doesn’t explain why you have your heats every three months like normal and it took me until I was eighteen to have my first rut. I didn’t even pop a knot until right before Christmas.”</p><p>Patrick drops his finger guns and ducks his head, cheeks going beet red. “My ma said that my omega instincts told me to go through my heats like normal so that I would be ready when I reunited with you. But for you, your body refused to go into rut without your bondmate. That’s why you reacted like a normal alpha to me, but why you could never react to other omegas’ heats.” </p><p>Patrick smiles shyly, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “You, uh, pretty much had to make sure that you were the only alpha that could trigger my heat. It’s, ah, it’s a fertility thing.”</p><p>He can feel Patrick deep in his chest, know where he is and sense what he’s feeling. Which is strange, since they’re not mated physically. Their cycles won’t line up until Patrick takes his bite, and they won’t have any right to one another — legally, anyway — until both of their mating glands have been pierced. But they’re bonded, a little sense in the back of Jonny’s mind that connects them together. </p><p>“A fertility thing, huh?” Jonny teases, taking Patrick by the shoulders and pinning him to the bed. Patrick wiggles happily beneath him. </p><p>“What about, uh,” Jonny asks, blushing abashedly, “my knot? It didn’t, um, show up until Christmas.”</p><p>Patrick quirks an eyebrow. “Knots only pop when in contact with omega slick. That’s basic dynamic knowledge.”</p><p>Jonny groans and sticks his face in Patrick’s neck. “Well I didn’t know! I thought it was a cyst.”</p><p>Patrick sighs exasperatedly, reaching his arms up to cup Jonny’s cheeks. “You’re hopeless.”</p><p>——</p><p>
  <b>Epilogue</b>
</p><p>
  <em> Four months later  </em>
</p><p>“I still can’t believe you didn’t know you were an alpha,” Sharpy says as they’re being called to line up in alphabetical order, “God, you’re a Level Five moron.”</p><p>Jonny thunks him on the forehead and tightens his arms around Patrick. He’s going to be so far away from him during the ceremony. Patrick’s clingier than usual, probably overwhelmed with everything that’s been going on today. He’s curled up against Jonny, face smothered in his neck and just breathing there. Jonny rubs a hand across his back to keep him calm.</p><p>They part ways as they line up and walk out into the football field. Jonny’s not sure where his family is, but he can smell them in the crowd to the right of him, sitting close by to Patrick’s family. </p><p>Jonny scratches at his thigh as the ceremony drags on, principals and teachers and their valedictorian making speeches about the future. Jonny can see the curly mop of hair poking out from underneath Patrick’s cap ten rows in front of him. </p><p>And then they’re moving their tassels and standing up and that’s it; they’ve graduated. </p><p>Alongside his classmates, Jonny throws his cap in the air, watching it whirl above him. He grabs it as it comes down before it can hit the ground and get trampled on, and then he moves through the throngs of people flooding the field so that he can get to Patrick.</p><p>Sharpy almost knocks him down in a bear-hug, and the two of them holler together in joy. They’ve done it.</p><p>Patrick comes out of nowhere, barreling into Jonny’s side. He tosses his arms around his omega, dragging him close. They’re no longer students at the school, which means Jonny is free to kiss Patrick for however long and however hard he wants to. So he does. </p><p>Sharpy goes off to find the rest of their friends, but Jonny stays right where he is, kissing his omega tucked in his arms under the sunset. Life is so fucking good. </p><p>“Uh, Jonny?” Patrick says, breaking the kiss but staying pressed close to Jonny’s chest.</p><p>“Hm?” Hums Jonny, trying to go back in for more kisses. </p><p>Patrick shifts on his feet. “Uh—”</p><p>That’s when Jonny smells it, the quick, desperate little burst of slick and the smell of vanilla. Jonny stares down at him, eyes wide, “But… you just had your heat last month?”</p><p>Patrick blushes a pretty pink. “I think seeing you in those pants and that tight shirt really…” his eyes are staring at Jonny’s chest. “God, that shirt should be illegal.”</p><p>Jonny sighs and starts to look for their families. Graduation dinner is going to have to be postponed. “I can’t believe you’re so horny that you went into heat <em> again.” </em> </p><p>“You’re hot, I can’t help it!” Patrick huffs, crossing his arms, “Besides, when have our dynamics ever been normal?” He beams up at Jonny and successfully distracts him from his mission to find their families, because Jonny is a sucker for his smile. </p><p>Jonny hooks his thumbs into Patrick’s belt loops and draws him in, pressing him flush to his hips. Patrick’s still conscious, eyes still clear, so he doesn’t feel the need to get them off the field immediately. Instead, he slides his big hands up to hold Patrick’s waist and says, “Kiss me.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” Patrick grins, and stands on his tippy toes to kiss him again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> fin </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that’s it! Thank you guys so much for all the love and support &lt;3 I hope you enjoyed it!</p>
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